


Unruly Narrative Lagomorphs

by Yarol2075



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Aces in Love, Alternate Universes, Asexual Characters, M/M, Multi, Rare Pairings, aces in space, unrelated ficlets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2018-07-19 08:17:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 36
Words: 28,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7353133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yarol2075/pseuds/Yarol2075
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of mostly unconnected ficlets  and vignettes encompassing all Star Wars eras that will be added to periodically. Currently primarily Luke Skywalker/Boba Fett ficlets, although Jango Fett & Obi-Wan Kenobi have popped up.  Please check Author's Notes for Additional Tags!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Why Are You Laughing?  Why Are You Crying?

**Author's Note:**

> So is this all about? Well, I have some plot b*nnies (can't spell the word out, it just causes them to multiple) that refuse to vacate the premises and let me get on with writing Conversations. I'm hoping by posting them once in while it will let me clear my brain. So far they mostly seem to be Luke/Boba plot b*nnies. My head cannon is that Both Luke and Boba are pan-romantic aces.
> 
> Also Boba tends to call Luke: Skywalker or Love, because he finds Luke to be inherently silly sounding.

As it turned out there was someone else on the planet aside from herself, Chewbacca, R2D2, and Luke Skywalker; the scarred old man in the boat looked from Rey to Luke to Chewie and then narrowed his gaze on Luke again with a frown. Luke gazed serenely back, but unexpectedly the corner of his mouth quirked up. The man in the boat raised a scar-broken eyebrow and faintly shook his head. Luke simply tilted his. Bound bundles of some sort of kelp were chucked on the dock, very carefully missing the group standing there, and Luke with a gesture floated them into a stack. Containers of fish followed, but those were tossed more gently than the kelp. Rey couldn't help but notice, feel, a tiny bit smugness radiating from Luke; not much, just a hint.

Then a very small fish smacked into Luke's head.

A globe of water rose up behind the man on the boat and then lost cohesion over his head.

The man in the boat huffed a growl, but finally smiled.

"If I'm feeding another Jedi and a Wookie, Skywalker," he swung himself onto the small dock, shaking himself dry and doing his level best to get everyone else wet, "You're coming out with me sometimes. You can just use the Force to deal with your seasickness."

"I'm not a Jedi," Rey blurted out the same time as Luke said, "She's not my student."

"Jedi," the man simply shook his head in fond amusement, and then looked at Chewbacca, "what are you looking at?"

Chewbacca whuffed a sharp question at Luke.

"No, you can't," Luke said with a quiet laugh, "I've been sleeping with him for two and a half years now and the bed would be cold without Bo in it."

Chewbacca threw back his head a howled.

"Now, you've gone and done it, Skywalker," Boba Fett chuckled, "you've broken the mighty Chewbacca."

Rey had been watching the whole display while gnawing on her knuckles. She decided the only who would give her a straight answer was R2D2.

"Artoo, who is that?" Rey asked.

R2D2 tootled and tweeted.

"You're sure?" she looked from the astromech to the scarred man; he didn't quite seem old enough, "You're Boba Fett?"

"Possibly."

"Rey, yes, this is Boba Fett," Luke finally made a proper introduction, with an exasperated look at the other man, "Boba, this is Rey; Leia asked her to find me."

"Of course she did."

* * *

The little house had been well camouflaged - from the outside it looked like a formation of rocks and moss with the odd plant growing here and there. Rey was certain she could have found the entrance if given enough time, but conceded she probably would have fallen prey to the number of security measures before that. The steps leading down the interior were well-lit and clean of any debris that might have blown in from the outside. Artoo had whined about being left behind, but Chewie had told the little droid to return to the _Falcon_.

Once inside the sunken interior was surprisingly light and airy, the stone walls coated with a faintly blue-tinted white, insulating plasti-seal, except for one gap that was a massive fire-place. And other than what looked like enclosed cubical in one corner, it was one open space. Along one wall was a food preparation and storage area that looked like it would comfortable in any modern apartment on any of the Republic's worlds. There was a table and two chairs nearby that. Three bluish-gray large shapeless bag like things were randomly scattered about the space. There were waist-high storage cabinets against the walls. And farthest from the door was a large stone and wood bed. The rest of the decor could be described as eclectic at best.

It really wasn't a large enough space for the four of them to be truly comfortable in, but two people could live there, if they were familiar enough with one another.

After setting his share of the fish and kelp burden in the food storage unit, Chewbacca huffed a sigh and seat down on one of the chairs. He lowed out a few mournful inquiries.

"I was here first," Boba answered crossly, "I woke up one morning and found him," he jerked his thumb towards Luke, "Hanging in one my traps, meditating."

Rey settled herself in one of shapeless bags and let out a soft noise. It was almost sinfully comfortable.

"He cut me down, told me to stay away, and then retreated like a wild gundark was after him," Luke smiled, taking Boba's hand and guiding them to the bed to sit upon its edge, "after a few days, Bo came and found me in one of the temple caves. 'I don't need a sad-eyed ghost in a bathrobe wandering around.' We went from there."

"And I ended up with a Jedi in my bed," mock-groused Boba pulling away from Luke, but leaning back in momentarily to kiss his forehead, "I am wet, and I am tired, and I'm going to take a shower. I'll make supper after."

Luke looked at Rey and Chewbacca and paled.

"How about I make supper?"

Boba looked over his shoulder as he headed for the cubical that hid refresher.

"One time, Skywalker, it happened one time when I had a cold and couldn't taste anything."

"Bo, the first time I ate with you, I couldn't taste anything for a month," Luke chuckled, "and Chewbacca's sense of taste is far more sensitive than mine."

"Fine, fine, suit yourself," and he disappeared into the 'fresher.

"I've eaten mandalorian cooking before," Rey volunteered, recalling one of her few fond memories of Jakku, "it's spicy, but not that spicy usually, Master Skywalker."

"It's Luke, please." he responded getting up and going to the kitchen area, pausing to pat Chewie's shoulder, "and there mandalorian cooking and there's mandalorian cooking by way of Concord Dawn learned from a Father who consistently mixed up milligrams and centigrams when it came to cooking. I've never asked, but I suspect the Sarlacc spat him back out as too spicy."

* * *

Later, after Rey and Chewbacca returned to the _Millennium Falcon,_ Luke dimmed the lights with a wave of his hand, earning his nightly:

"Show off."

It had surprised the both of them at first but it was Boba who latched on and curled up close to his bedmate, unconsciously, leading to some awkward mornings, and then, after saying the frak with it, snuggling up immediately when they went to bed.

"Well, this is going to get interesting," Luke said, moving one arm so it wasn't pinned under where Boba had melded himself to Luke's side. He gently stroked Boba's back, as he continued, "even if we don't leave with them now, Rey will stay and we both know Chewbacca will bring Leia back to try and talk some sense into me about my choice of spouse."

That got him an annoyed huff of warm breath against his neck.

"I could say something about her choice of spouse, but out of respect for the dead, won't. But if I ever see our nephew, I'm shooting him," Boba muttered, "Killing a perfectly good Father like that."

That was one subject Luke wasn't touching with a ten meter pole.

"I built this bed, Skywalker, I intended to die in this bed," Boba rambled on, "then you turned up. Had no clue how to make a shelter here. Didn't even know how to fish. Just some insane idea to follow the Force on your quest to find the first Jedi Temple and it would provide for you."

"And it clearly did," Luke demurred, "you were here."

Boba snorted, but let Luke draw him even closer.

"I was not put here by the Force."

"Keep telling yourself that, Bo," Luke chuckled.

Silence reigned. Breathing evened out, but neither man was asleep.

"We _could_ stay here, Bo" Luke said quietly.

"No, not now," Boba sighed, "I'd better go retrieve up my armor. I can't let you run off on some damn fool idealistic crusade without someone to watch your back."

Luke flipped them so he was covering Boba, startling him; Luke knew Boba hated being pinned down with a passion. Luke's face was buried in Boba's shoulder and neck. Luke was shaking, so Boba re-wrapped his arms around the Jedi Master and held tight.

"Why are you laughing, Skywalker?"

Then a moment later.

"Why are you crying, Love?"


	2. When In Doubt Head For Hondo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not certain where this scene came from, or where it would ever go. It seems to work on its own.
> 
> Established relationship; set well after ROTJ. Ben's behavior is being heavily influenced by Snoke.

**Takodana**

 

Luke found Boba sitting on one of the walls of Maz Kanata's fortress watching their six year old son Owen playing space battle with ancient Weequay Hondo Ohnaka; the old 'I'm only taking a rest, I'm not retired!' pirate being the closest any of the Skywalker-Fett or Solo-Organa children had to a grandparent. He sat down beside Boba on the stone, waiting in silence. Boba had taken their youngest child and left suddenly during a particularly tense senate session/negotiation with several Outer Rims Worlds still wary of joining the New Republic. Jaster and Shmi had interrupted an important meeting when they burst in panicking after they had returned home from lessons and found no one there and no information as to why no one was there. And Boba was always there when they came home, or at least left a message on where he was and when he would be back. Unfortunately that had thrown everything into chaos. Leia, and the many diplomats involved, had been understandably furious, but Luke knew that if he didn't go and find Boba now, it would only steadily get worse. The only people in the Galaxy who would want the Head of the new Jedi Order and the current Mand'alor, his husband, to be on anything less than speaking terms was the worryingly growing First Order, and possibly the Duke of Mandalore. But Duke Koracan was mostly relieved that Boba had no interest in the planet Mandalore.

"Owen thinks you're ashamed of him," Boba finally said flatly, not even looking at Luke.

"What?" Luke's yelp would have been comical coming from the respect Jedi Master if it didn't indicate just how blindsided the statement had taken him.

"Because he's not Force sensitive like Jaster and Shmi," Boba turned a smile at Luke that had no smile in it at all, "because, let me get this correct as I can, he was crying when he repeated it to me, big cousin Ben told him he was 'worthless, frizzy-haired mandope,'" Boba's own hand unconsciously went to up to touch his own curly hair; all three children had Boba's dark tan skin and dark eyes, but Jaster and Shmi has somehow ended up with hair much like Luke's albeit a slightly darker blonde, "and to be honest, Skywalker, you _haven't_ been paying as much attention to him as you do to his brother and sister," the quiet anger bled out of his voice into bleakness. He turned back to watching Owen and Hondo.

Hondo, evidently tired out, now regaling the boy with adventurous tales of when he had been in his prime and even Jedi Masters and Sith Lords trembled before him! Owen was enjoying hearing how his Honk-Honk had once capture his grandfather Anakin and was giggling like mad.

It hit Luke that this was first time in a long time he had heard his youngest laugh. He tentatively reached out a hand to touch Boba's. Boba shifted his hand to hook his pinkie finger around Luke's


	3. Drabble Organa

“Senator Organa is her father’s daughter,” Boba said as he laid his head in Luke’s lap.

Luke opened one of his eyes slightly; he was not use to having someone just there, not even someone he was considering asking to be there permanently.

“I don’t think you want to tell Leia that,” Luke replied with a sad sigh.

“Why not?” Boba snorted, “Viceroy Organa was fierfeking terrifying when he was angry.”

“Is there anyone you didn’t encounter or anger?” Luke laughed.

Boba considered it for a moment.  He actually made counting motions with his fingers.

“No.”

 


	4. Father's Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decidedly not Luke Skywalker/Boba Fett. Not counting the location, it's a drabble and a half.

_Temporary Building, Takodana_

 

After the Jedi and the former Stormtrooper left Maz worked her way back to dark corner where the regular they had come to see sat staring into his empty glass. 

“Why did you lie to him?” she asked gently, setting a new drink down in front of the tired old man.

“Didn’t lie to him; just gave him a different truth,” he mumbled reaching for the drink, “better for him.  Better for all of them.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Finn can be proud of himself.  Rex gets a hero kid; kid gets a hero dad, ‘nstead of a broken down failure of a bounty hunter,” Boba Fett looked wearily at Maz, “and Rex’s not ‘live to contradict me.”

“And his mother can’t either, thanks to the First Order,” Maz sighed sadly.  She patted his arm, “perhaps it is for the best.”

“It is,” Fett confirmed bleakly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of the various theories I have of Finn's origin, one is that he's the son of Sana Starros and Boba Fett.


	5. Stars Against Humanity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double Drabble; I'm hoping I will finally have these out of my system and can work on Conversations this weekend.

_8 years after_ **_ROTJ_ **

 

No one was entirely certain how it started, but it lead to them all, Luke, Boba, Leia, and Han lying on the floor, staring at the stars through the transpara-steel ceiling, drunker than, well, no one’s ever out drunk a Hutt, yet, trying to come up with the worst historical “facts” in galactic history, any galactic history.

So far respected Jedi master, sweet kind Jedi master, Jedi master who nary had an evil thought enter his precious head, Luke Skywalker was in the lead.

“Master Yoda,” Luke stated with absolute certainly, “Master Yoda wasn’t a Jedi at all.  He was the pet of a long dead Jedi.  Like one of those Correllian bird things that mimic what people say and live a long, a long time.  After the Jedi dies his fellow Jedi took care of it, and then they died, and it just keeps happening until no Jedi remembers that ‘Master’ Yoda is really a, let’s say, a Dagoban Wriggle-Ear,” Leia started giggling again at this point, “that’s just mimicking everything its ever heard,” Luke finished with a serene smile.

“Bloody hell,”  Boba slurred and handed Luke the bottle, “that explains a lot.”

 


	6. Philosophical Discussions - Breaking Furniture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It occurred to me that since Kamino is nearly in another Galaxy, and it doesn't appear they were members of the Republic until after they created the GAR, a small realization and change could have made all the difference.

Boba watched his father after the Jedi and Taun We left.  Jango was deep in thought, but if he had noticed Boba’s attention he would have approved.  Practice reading people was always a good exercise.  From his initial expressions it was little hard to tell what he was thinking of.  Jango’s face was still and his eyes distant.  Then he looked at Boba, staring as if he was making sure Boba was still there, still real.  Boba was use to that stare.  Then Jango looked away again, this time his face morphed into a pensive frown.

“What is it, Dad?” Boba asked.

“Pa...” Jango stopped as if something had just occurred to him.  The corners of his mouth quirked up in a barely there smile, and then transformed into a devious grin.  He ruffled Boba’s hair, “Set a third place for supper tonight, Boba.  We’ll be having company.”

“Okay, Dad,” Boba would just have to wait to see whatever his father was up to.

 

~*~

 

The Jedi came back and started blustering about how Jango had to come with him and how it would be easier on him and Boba if he came without a fight.  Boba really wanted to throw something at the pompous jerk, but Jango seemed content to let the Jedi flail about, so Boba followed his father’s example.

After a few minutes the Jedi stopped and looked at Jango, who had just calmly removed the main dish from the oven in the apartment’s little kitchen.

“Are you done?” Jango politely inquired, “We are about to have supper.  It’s broiled rollerfish,” there was a flash of a proud smile, “Boba caught it this morning.  You’re welcome to join us.”

This wasn’t quite going to the script the Jedi must have had in his head.  Jango was supposed to protest, possibly fight, not invite him to dinner.  However reason seemed to be ruling the day. 

“Thank you, I believe I will,” Obi-Wan let himself be seated at the table. 

Boba ate with his best manners, but couldn’t help but giggle a little when the Jedi startled when the jaw of the rollerfish started moving when Jango started slicing.

“Never quite got use that myself,” Jango confided amiably, and Boba couldn’t decide if his Dad was being nice or if he really meant it.  That unsettled the Jedi further, however he did seem to like the rollerfish.

Finally the Jedi did start again, but this time with less pompous bluster.

“I do have orders from the Jedi Counsel to bring you in,” he said with some contrition.

Jango nodded.

“And it really would be easier on you and on your son if you came peacefully.

Jango nodded again, then asked. 

“And the Jedi Counsel has the authority to do this?” 

“The Jedi Counsel has the authority the Republic has entrusted it with,” a light appeared to dawn in the Jedi’s eyes, “But Kamino...” 

“Isn’t part of the Republic,” Jango grinned.

Obi-Wan frowned and then countered:

“I could discuss the matter with the Prime Minister.”

“And I could insist that they’ve been tricked, and you’re not a Jedi.  And they’ve known me longer,” then Jango added sharply, “and I know all about your Jedi mind tricks, so don’t bother.” 

“Then we appear to be at an impasse,” Obi-Wan sighed, “I could try to take you in by force, but that would only ruin the remainder of this excellent meal.” 

Boba knew his Dad had something in mind, just from the way Jango was tilting his head.  He stayed relaxed, knowing he would have to catch even the smallest of the signals Dad had worked out. 

“Well,” Jango drawled, “perhaps we could talk this out.”

Boba blinked.  He hadn’t expected that.

 

~*~

 

The message came two weeks after they returned to Naboo from Tatooine.  Master Obi Wan Kenobi hadn’t been heard from since he had left for Kamino, beyond a very brief message that he needed to do some further investigating.  Although Anakin had been told quite clearly and emphatically that he should stay put with Senator Amidala, that Master Windu would be investigating, he found himself nonetheless piloting a ship towards Kamino.  After all the Senator had insisted on going to check on Master Kenobi. 

They arrived on Kamino just as Master Windu did.  Anakin was surprised when Windu flashed him a sympathetic look after Padme stood her ground and insisted she needed to be there. 

They found Obi-Wan’s Delta-7 in the shadow of a large ship that to Padme’s eyes looked like a stylized portable clothing press.  

And the Delta-7 was occupied.

 

~*~

 

Boba was happily ensconced in the Delta-7.   He had snacks, several juice packs and an entertainment data-pad on the off chance he got bored with studying the Delta-7.  Not kriffing likely since Obi-Wan had apparently forgotten he was still signed into the Jedi’s secured internal holo-net system.  As his Dad frequently said, if they’re stupid enough to give you a way in than they deserved what you unleash.  And he wasn’t going to do anything too terrible.  Boba was beginning to really like Obi-Wan, which was probably a good thing considering the way things seemed to be going.

What wasn’t a good thing was the canopy of the Delta-7 opening up and the rain coming in.  Bobe looked up from the screen and frowned.  A woman and two men.  She was pretty, he was handsome, and the other man looked like a dork with a braid.

“You’re letting the rain in,” Boba said tartly, and closed the canopy. 

It opened again. 

“This is the property of the Jedi Order, youngling,” The handsome man said sternly.

“I know, Obi-Wan said I could study it,” Boba shut the canopy again, or at least tried to, then he noticed the men’s garb, “oh, more Jedi.”

“Yes, more Jedi,” the handsome man said with a hint of exasperation, however his tone of voice gentled as he asked, “We are looking for Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi.  He’s given you permission to play in his ship?”

“I’m not _playing_ ,” Boba pouted, “I’m studying,” he gave the dork with a braid the stink-eye when the dork chuckled, “Obi-Wan,” he said with all the dignity a ten year old could muster, “is having philosophical discussions with my Dad.”

“Philosophical discussions?” the handsome man helped Boba clamber out of the starship.

“Yep,” Boba nodded.

“Perhaps we could join in,” the woman chimed in, “I’m Padme Amidala, and you are?”

“Boba Fett,” he gave a slight bow, it seemed polite, “I’m pleased to meet you.”

“I am Mace Windu,” the handsome man finally named himself, and he gestured to the dork with the braid, “this is Anakin Skywalker, Master Kenobi’s padawan learner.”

“Oh, he’s mentioned you,” Boba looked at Anakin like he was trying to match up what Obi-Wan had said of his apprentice and what was standing there, “huh.”

He led the way to the entrance into the city.

“Philosophical discussions, you said,” Mace prompted as they wended their way through the corridors.

“Yep,” Boba nodded again, “the latest was whether it was possible for the Jedi to maintain their philosophy of detachment if a physical intimacy became involved,” he could of sworn Padme and Anakin jumped a little at that, interesting, “Obi-Wan let me study his ship, since they needed to continued their discussion and they broken Dad’s bed last night,” he cheerfully chattered on.

“I’m sorry, what?” Mace asked.

“Broke Dad’s bed.  We’re almost there,” Boba led their way towards a door with a formidable locking mechanism, “so they were going to use the couch today.”

He seemed oblivious to the shocked looks being traded by the trio, but Boba was getting more amused by the second.  Just as they got to the door there was thump on the other side of the wall by the door.  Boba carefully schooled his face into wide-eyed innocence, before he turned to look at the stunned group.

“It sounds like they’ve broken the couch too.”


	7. Her Fathers' Daughter.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very dubious, very cracky origin for Rey.

_**Tatooine** _

 

The man’s grip on reality seemed a little looser than other people’s, but he was utterly convinced of what he said. It was just that what he said came close to making Poe and Finn’s heads hurt in ways neither of them had ever imagined.

Poe, being the kind man he was, very gently started to clarify what Boba Fett had told them, while Finn started to figure just how they were going to explain this to the pertinent parties.

“You had a vision while being digested by the Sarlacc, that indicated that if someone of the Skywalker bloodline and Han Solo had a child it would either be the salvation or destruction of the universe.”

“Yes,” Fett nodded emphatically while he went through some ceremony, which he assured them would result in tea.

“If the child was a boy, it would be disaster; if the child was a girl, everything would fine, even better than before. But that Leia Organa was destined to only have one child”

“That’s the Vision I was shone.”

“So when Ben Solo-Organa was born you feared the universe would come to an end and took steps to prevent that,” Poe began to pace in the small house that once belonged to Obi-Wan Kenobi. He really was beginning to wish he had gone with the General to the new Republic capital, “ which involved creating a child from the genetic material of Luke Skywalker and Han Solo.”

“Yep, Skywalker was the easy one, killed two mynocks with one blaster bolt, retrieved his hand and the lightsaber. Gave the lightsaber to Maz and took the hand to Kamino for safe keeping,” the old man frowned, “Solo was surprisingly hard to get material from, it took a little longer,” then Fett smiled again, and Poe was hard pressed not to smiled along with him, “but I got it, and then had Rey made. The universe is **Safe** now.”

“Why the kriff did you leave her on Jakku?!?” Finn burst out incredulously.

“Because I couldn’t exactly drop her off with Skywalker. She would have died in the massacre,” Fett snapped back, almost dropping a very heavy pot of water on Finn’s feet, “besides that was not my doing. Dengar screwed that one up. She was supposed to live here with me until the Right Time.”

“Why didn’t you go after her?”

“Because Bossk and Cardossk got concerned that I was acting ‘irrationally’ and decided I needed to be ‘looked after’ like I was ten again. When those two agree on something it’s hard to escape them,” Fett scowled darkly, “by the time I got loose, it would have been dangerous to go after her.”


	8. Philosophical Discussions - Brothers?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The discussion seems to have continued... Poor Anakin.

Mace took a moment to reach out in the Force to determine if Obi-Wan was as willing as the boy seemed to indicate. There was another thump against the wall and muffled moan. Mace withdrew from the Force, his face only slightly shifting with an uneven mix of disapproval and humor. Boba was correct, Obi-Wan was perfectly willing.

He reached out and deftly caught the boy’s hand before he could touch the locking mechanism.

“Perhaps we should not interrupt them right now,” he intoned with only the driest of hints of humor coloring his voice, “they are otherwise...engaged.”

“You mean they’re frakking each other silly,” Boba replied matter-of-factly, he looked past Mace, “Is he okay?”

Mace turned to see Anakin, twitching, being supported by Padmé, seemly paralyzed by indecision and shock.

“I don’t think he ever thought of his Master as being,” oh Mace knew he shouldn’t do it, but for once he decided not to resist, “Frakkable.”

Skywalker twitched even more violently, and Mace almost, almost took a step back from the glare Senator Amidala leveled at him.

“I could take you to Taun We,” Boba offered, and Mace could swear the child was planning some other surprise, just to see how they would react.

“No, I think it best we wait until we can talk with Master Kenobi and your Father,” Mace shook his head, “We shall return to our ships until that time.”

Boba’s face lit up.

“I can go back to studying’s Obi-Wan’s ship?”

Anakin shook himself and finally found his voice.

“Master Windu, do you think that truly wise?” Skywalker winced as his voice squeaked from unexpected stress.

“He gave me permission.”

It was a borderline whine from Boba, but the big pleading brown eyes made up for it. Mace still wasn’t buying it.

“Is there somewhere where,” Mace began when there was an exceptional loud thump and someone was urging loud enough they could hear clearly despite the soundproofing.

**“HARDER”**

“I think that was Dad,” Boba stared, a little shocked, at the wall for a moment, really looking like the ten year old child he was.

“Is there somewhere where we can find refreshment?” Mace hurriedly asked managing to shepherd the group away from the apartment before Skywalker completely freaked out. Senator Amidala wasn’t helping things; she looked like she was going to burst out into giggles at any moment.

“I can make hot chocolate on Slave I,” Boba offered as he kept looking back, eyes all-rounded and blinking, then he looked at Anakin a little shyly and a touch slyly, “I think you just became my brother.”

~*~

Mace got Anakin and Senator Amidala settled back on the Senator’s ship, and let the Senator fuss over Kenobi’s...traumatized seemed too strong a words, but Mace was willing to go with it, Kenobi’s traumatized padawan. Mace had a troubling feeling about that particular situation, but it was a better alternative than keeping Skywalker and the Fett child in any kind of proximity, at least not until Obi-Wan was present and could make an account of himself.

Mace knew he should report to the Council, or at least Yoda, but not just yet. He was going to accompany Boba and have a hot chocolate. If he knew his bounty hunters right, there would something stronger on that ship that could be added to the hot chocolate. Then he would contact his little green goblin of a best friend. It was going to be a long conversation.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There probably be one more part to this little story line.


	9. Philosophical Discussions  - S'Mores

Obi-Wan Kenobi woke up with a sense of being pinned to reasonably soft surface.  He woken up on less comfortably soft surfaces and this really was a nice change and he needed to get his mind to circle back to the part where he was being pinned down because that had to have some importance, didn’t it?  Of course what was pinning down  him was warm, breathing, and not quite so soft as what he was pinned down on, but still a welcome change.  It was also softly snoring.

Ah, yes, Jango.

This was definitely the sort of complication Obi-Wan had been trying to teach Anakin to avoid.  There was really was nothing for it.  He would have to leave the Order.  Obi-Wan knew enough of Mandalorian culture ( _oh_ _Satine_ , some corner of his heart would always love Satine) to know how dogged Jango would be about family, especially given that Boba had already practically adopted Obi-Wan as a second father.   Obi-Wan doubted he could resist the double-powered puppy-dog stare of both sets of deep brown eyes anyway.  He wasn’t about to be the one who set those two loose in the Temple.

And, yes, for all that Jango embraced being a warrior, Obi-Wan felt a certain serene peace within himself in admitting he was fallen lightsaber over boots in love with the irritating man.  It helped that Jango had decided, somewhere between teaching Obi-Wan how to cook rollerfish and an intense discussion (shouting match) about the Jedi needing to open their eyes, that maybe the best revenge was being happy. 

Since a large scale war tended to get in the way of happiness, Jango was clearly plotting something.  Obi-Wan hadn’t wormed who exactly had hired him yet, but he had overheard a conversation Jango had with the Kaminoans, something about immediately halting the accelerated aging of the clones (Obi-Wan approved) and a puzzled exchange about bio-chips which Jango very decisively lied through his teeth about; he said Jedi Master Kenobi ordered them to be removed, carefully.  Obi-Wan had sensed that Jango had been a bit blindsided about the chips and they perhaps had been the deciding factor for Jango.  Deciding what exactly Obi-Wan hadn’t found out, but Jango’s arguments had been particularly skewed towards free will after that.

He glanced at the wall-chrono and winced.  For all that Jango let Boba roam free on Kamino, the boy did need to eat regularly.  Obi-Wan shook Jango.

And was rewarded with a muffled snort and Jango snuggling down harder.

 Obi-Wan shook Jango again and said loudly.

 “I think Boba’s hungry.”

 That woke him up.

 “What?  Boba?” Jango surged up, looking around.

“Yes, I think we should find Boba and make him something to eat,” Obi-Wan smirked just a little at Jango’s owlish blinking.

Jango slumped back down, whumphing the air out of Obi-Wan.

“Boba’ll probably eat on Slave I,” Jango groused, “he’s a smart boy,” there was the quick affectionate smile that always appeared when Jango spoke of his son.

"Jango.”

“All right, all right,” Jango muttered, getting up and giving Obi-Wan a good view of what he was now reconsidering; perhaps it wouldn’t hurt Boba to eat on Slave I.  Alas, Jango moved too fast and was getting dressed, covering up tantalizing tattooed skin, “hmm, Boba must have taken your robes to be laundered; here.”

Obi-Wan took the bundle of Jango’s clothes to wear.  His shirts fit well.  His trousers tended to be a bit short, but Obi-Wan’s boots hid that. 

~*~

Obi-Wan’s stomach sank as he saw the two new starships on the landing pad.  He could tell immediately one was Mace’s personal, custom, purpler than almost anything else in the Galaxy Delta-7.  He was denying the other was a sleek silver nabuian craft.  That would mean Anakin was on Kamino.  Explaining to Mace how and why he had fallen in love with the man paid to assassinate Senator Amidala was going to be interesting enough, he didn’t think he could handle the hurt that Anakin would radiate.

“Well, he’s not in your Delta-7,” Jango announced, trudging back through the rain, “I should have checked on Slave I from the apartment,” he grumbled, “whose ship is that?”

“The Senator you were hired to...” he trailed off uncomfortably.

“You’re going to have to get over that, love,” Jango said, “I am who I am; I’m willing to change, but you have to accept who I am now.”

Kenobi chuckled as Jango settled the odd shaped rain hat on his head.

“Yes, of course.  It’s Senator Amidala’s craft, and if she’s here, so is my padawan,”  Obi-Wan said, “he’s going to be upset.”

“Then I suggest we check on Slave I first.”

~*~

The looks Obi-Wan and Jango got when they entered Slave I’s tiny crew quarters would have frozen lava.  Boba and Mace were both seated on the floor, with two small portable cooking burners between them, as well as a large bowl of Alderaanian marshmallows, Corellian sweet crackers and flat bars of chocolate.  Mugs of hot chocolate were also present. They had interrupted a serious discussion of the merits of the literary detective Macha Bindu and his good friend and partner Dr. Ormond Sacker, as well various holo-media interpretations there of.  

Jango was the first to move, sitting down next to his son.

“Might as well get this bit over with, love,” he motioned to Obi-Wan to sit.

“That’s all well and good,” Obi-Wan grumbled under his breath, “you’re sitting next to your son.”

But he settled in next to Mace nonetheless.   The four of them made for a tight fit.

Mace, looking sideways at Obi-Wan the entire time, speared a marshmallow with a long thin fork and held it over the heat of the burner.

“So, philosophical discussions?” he finally intoned causing Obi-Wan to jump.

“It seemed like an ideal alternative at the time,” Obi-Wan said weakly.

Boba giggled and Jango couldn’t help but try to hide a  snort of laughter, but still he couldn’t let his almost spouse (everything done but the oath) have to answer for a solution Jango had thought up.

"It was my idea,” Jango said, stealing a sip from his son’s hot chocolate, earning him a small thump from Boba, butting his shoulder against Jango’s arm, “I suggested we talk it out.  You should give Obi-Wan credit, his silver tongue’s probably spared the Jedi a lot of pain and heartache.”

Mace slid the now perfectly toasted marshmallow off the fork onto a sweet cracker and topped it with a bit of chocolate and another cracker.  He took a bite and chewed slowly, savoring the sweetness.

Boba rested his head against Jango’s shoulder, shuffling a bit when Jango wrapped an arm around him.

“You, both, do still have to come before the Jedi Council,” Mace said, making another s’more and handing it to Obi-Wan, “the clone army did not just conjure itself up out of the Force, and there is still the matter who hired you to assassinate Senator Amidala.”

“The Trade Federation,” Jango answered with a shrug.

“We guessed that,” Mace let an almost smile cross his face, “but the Trade Federation’s leadership,” he paused, searching for diplomatic words, “leads less than it is lead.”

Jango returned the almost smile.

“You Jedi need to keep better track of members who leave your Order.”

Mace tilted his head and raised an eyebrow, which Jango mirrored as Obi-Wan and Boba watched in fascination.  The silent conversation went on for a few more seconds when Slave I's intruder alarm blared to life causing them all to jump.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This may get moved into its own story.


	10. Ghost Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A ghost is laid to rest on Geonosis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story takes place in the same Universe as Chapter two: _When In Doubt Head For Hondo._ and takes place about a year later.
> 
> Also **Warning** for PTSD, Childhood Trauma, Mention of Decapitation, and a headless apparition roaming around.

There are ghost stories in this Galaxy.  A recent story is the burning Tusken Raider encampment on Tatooine, that no matter how it is approached, observers can never reach it.  On Lost Alderaan there was the story the sightless Prince who haunted the Palace and legend has it ensured that there would never be a male heir to the royal family so Alderaan never suffered from a folly like his again.  They say there are more ghost stories on Coruscant that there are inhabitants, which many people say is unsurprising.

And now we examine the ghosts of Geonosis.  Geonosis first battle field of the Clone Wars.  Geonosis origin point of the original Deathstar.  Geonosis a dead world.

Some suggest the entire planet is a ghost.  Which is nonsense, but there is a feeling, when you’re on its surface, that there are things that slip by you just outside of your range of vision.  Even species who have a near 360 degree field of view have said they feel that way.

Arguably though the most famous ghost is that of the frightening headless Mandalorian warrior said to haunt the ruined arena.  The few people who claim to have seen the fearsome apparition claim it appears to be searching for something.  Most suggest he’s looking for his head.  One, a Rodian who as child had accompanied their parents on an archeological/survey expedition shortly after the fall of the Empire and who claims to have had very up close encounter with the ghost, says they think the ghost is looking for something else entirely.

 

*~*

 

The main camp was set up in the arena because it seemed the most defensible location.  My parents were excited, well, excited isn’t the most appropriate word, but it was the first time they could actually excavate a site without Imperial minders breathing down their necks.  Probably the first time they knew their findings would be taken seriously.  I know the adults of the expedition had heard stories from previous visitors to Geonosis about the arena and its ghosts, but my parents did their best to keep me from hearing about them.  But I was nine standard years old and curious and there was a Kiffar geologist, Tarea Vos ( _Note: despite the name Tarea Vos is not related to late Jedi Master Quinlan Vos_ ) who firmly believe that children should be told things rather than catch information half-heard and worry about something without all the facts.  So she told me about the previous sightings and was adamant that I shouldn’t be afraid, and to tell an adult if I saw a ghost.  Father was livid, but I think Mother was relieved.

Anyway, it wasn’t long after that that someone spotted the ghost.  A Correllian who was always disagreeable woke the whole camp up screaming after he took a late night stroll and ran into the headless mandalorian.  Kept babbling on how it tried to steal his head.  I’m pretty certain he was lying.

After that more people saw the ghost, but no one really had any incidents with it.  Mostly it just wandered with its hand reaching out like it was looking for something.  But if it was looking for its head you’d think it would be searching the ground, not kind of waving its hand in the air.  I mean that would make more sense, right? 

I don’t know, maybe what happened with me is coloring my memory, but the ghost seemed more sad to me, than scary.

What happened with me?  Well, my parents would let me explore the more exposed interiors of the arena and I had found this really comfortable hidey-hole where I could see everything that was going on in the arena, and I could have some privacy from some of the other children.  One day I fell asleep.  When I woke up the sun was setting and a headless warrior ghost was standing over me.  I was mortified then, but I’m not ashamed now, I admit I soiled myself.

I backed myself up against the wall, and whimpered as it reached for me.  Then it touched my arm.  The closest I can come to describing what it felt like is if the air itself had solidified, not cold, not warmer, just the ambient temperature.  And as it patted its way up my arm I could see...you know how you can just tell when someone is getting excited just from the way they hold their body?  Well, the ghost was getting excited, and then it touched my face, my head, and it, sorry, sorry, it’s just so hard to remember, it hurts.  It froze for a moment and then its shoulders slumped and, and its body language was just so sad. 

Then it patted my shoulder and just disappeared.  I freaked out and ran back to the central encampment.

I don’t think it’s looking for its head, I think it’s looking for someone.  And I don’t think it means that person any harm.

 

*~*

 

Luke was almost certain he was going to have to **Use The Force** to get Boba out of the ship.  His husband kept getting right to the hatch and then back away like it was going to bite him.  Boba had been like that ever since that holonet series, “Ghosts of the Galaxy”, had been broadcast.  Inching forward towards going to Geonosis and then deciding that maybe now was not a good time to go.  Considering Luke had seen Boba face down a Death Watch contingent with little more than a vibro-knife and a smile (and wasn’t _that_ a memorable fight; Death Watch had been foolish enough to broadcast to most of the Galaxy.  All it had done was cement Boba’s position as Mand’alor), he knew this fear was as unnatural to Boba as philanthropy was to Hutts.

Really, if it hadn’t been for Owen saying out of the blue that he wanted his grandpa to be happy, it probably would have taken years to get Boba to go.  (They were going to have to talk about Owen; he wasn’t Force-sensitive, but he kept doing and saying things that generally unnerved people.)  And now they were on Geonosis and Luke was having to coax Boba out of the damn ship.

Luke stepped up right behind Boba just before he could back away for the twelfth time and wrapped an arm around his waist.

“I’m right here, Bo,” Luke said softly, “whatever happens, I’m right here.”

Boba shot him an annoyed look.

“I know you’re here, Skywalker.  I’m just,” he paused taking a step down the ramp, “I’m just not certain the time is right.  Stupid holo-show said sundown, or night.”

“In my experiences ghosts appear at all hours of the day,” Luke replied as they haltingly walked down the ramp.

“ _Your_ ghosts are not really ghosts, Skywalker,” Boba grumbled.  They’d discussed this at length long before this business had come up.  Boba insisted Force Ghosts were psychic projections of disembodied minds and it was no good pretending otherwise because Proper Ghosts didn’t throw objects at people when it did the most good for their pupil.  It was either completely random or on a fixed schedule; not when he was about to get the upper hand in a fight.

Luke chuckled, but noticed they finally on the floor of the Geonosian Arena.  Boba broke away from him, taking in a deep breath and letting it out in broken puffs.  He pointed to a place where a single broken block of stone stood.

“There were three pillars there.  Your parents and Kenobi were chained to them.  There was a nexu, acklay and a, a reek, that the Geonosians were going to use to kill them,” Fett stopped and turned as if on a pivot, and pointed to a broken structure that might have been a balcony at one time, “there, we watched from up there.  We watched....”

He just kept staring at the ruined royal viewing box, and Luke knew that Boba wasn’t really there with him at that moment.  Luke stayed close, but he gave Boba space.  Even though he knew in the end this was what Boba needed, regardless of any ghosts, he was entirely aware that there was a potential that Boba might lash out.  And that Boba would never forgive himself if he hurt Luke.

“The Jedi came.  Windu came.  He held his lightsaber to Dad’s throat.”

Boba started with a jerk and marched across the space, Luke following in his wake.  He began to climb to a little hollowed area, it may have been some Geonosian elite’s little private box.  It was almost naturally shielded.  The perfect place to hide a child, Luke realized.

“Dad told me to stay here,” Boba said softly once he had climbed into the space, smaller than he remembered it, “and I watched.  The reek trampled him.  Then Windu.  Killed him.”

He finally looked at Luke like a man looking through fog.

“He just fell over.  Just fell over.  They all kept fighting.”

Luke sat down next to Boba.  He felt he had to say something, but only one phrase came to mind.

“I’m sorry.”

Boba sagged heavily against Luke.

“And that, Love, is why you’re a better Jedi than any of the ones that came before,” Boba murmured, taking Luke’s hand and lay his head on Luke’s shoulder.

Neither was sure of just how much time passes, but Luke was the first to notice the shadow drifting towards them.  He looked up and took in sharp breath. 

Force Ghosts didn’t look like that.  There was something comfortingly, well, glowy and ethereal about them.  This was something that almost seemed solid.  Luke recognized the armor from holographs.  He had never known just how much like his father Boba moved though.  There were differences aside from the lack of a head.  Jango Fett must have had a slightly bulkier build than his son which Luke attributed to life differences.  And there was something very cold about the sheer sleek spotlessness of the armor.  Boba’s armor wasn’t as bashed up anymore, but it still was more...Luke couldn’t pinpoint it, but Boba’s armor seemed more real.

Luke carefully reached out with the Force.  It was so strange trying to examine the presence that was there; it was like trying to grasp water.  But it was _there_.

Luke looked at Boba and realized he was dozing.

“Bo, wake up,” he whispered.

Brown eyes snapped open, and Boba sat up straight.

“Oh.”

Neither one of them moved.  Luke felt a little absurd, a Jedi Master, the Jedi Master, and he was afraid.

It felt claustrophobic as the ghost knelt down in front of them, and reached out.  Its hand splayed out on Boba’s chest, and Luke understood exactly what the Rodian had said about the phantom’s body language.  Right now, it was curious, almost hopeful, as the hand moved upward to Boba’s shoulder, and then confused and disappointed as it reached his face, and traced his features and the scars.  Its shoulders started to slump.

“I grew up, Dad,” Boba said quietly, and that brought the figure to almost rigid attention, “I’m two years older than you ever got to be.”

Then both hands were on Boba’s shoulders, and if the ghost of Jango Fett had had a head his face would have been mere centimeters from Boba’s.

“I have three children.  I have someone who loves me; he’s right next to me.  I have a home.”

Luke could have sworn the ghost started to glow.

“I’m happy Dad.”

And the ghost shook with unheard laughter and it wrapped its, his arms around Boba.  And Luke watched as strange matter flowed and coalesced to form Jango Fett’s head.  He whispered something to Boba, but it was so low Luke couldn’t hear it, nor did he try to. Then Jango sat back on his heels, grinning staring as if to burn the memory of his grown son’s face into his memory.  He reached out and ruffled Boba’s hair, then shimmered out of existence.

Luke turned to Boba, carefully not reaching out in the Force to respect Boba’s privacy.  Boba glanced over at him.

“Let’s get to the ship.”

It seemed a bit of a blur until the next morning.  Mostly Luke remembered holding tight as Boba wept silently in the crowded berth on Slave I. 

Boba woke first as usually and had already ready the ship for takeoff, when Luke came yawning into the cockpit to secure himself lift off.  Slave I really was the strangest ship to fly.

“So, you’re happy?’ Luke asked lightly.

Boba snorted and rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth tilted upwards.

“There’s one less ghost on Geonosis, Skywalker.  Let’s go home, Love.”


	11. Helmet On, Heart Gone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I normally quite like soul mate AUs. However this depressing little monster took hold and I had to write it out during lunch.
> 
> Warning: implied character death.

Once, when Boba was very young, he asked his father about the bluish green smudge that marred one of the tattoos that crisscrossed Jango’s forearms.  His father smiled sadly, and because he was a good father, explained quite simply that it was his soulmate’s mark, but it was blurred now that they had died.  And while he was sad from that loss, at least had memories of the time they had been happy together. 

Boba with all the wisdom of a four year old asked if his father wanted to play starships to make Jango happy.  With a laugh, Jango settled himself on the floor.

~*~

When he was slightly older, Boba asked if he had a soulmate’s mark. 

“It’ll come in when you’re older,” Jango reassured him.

Jango didn’t live to see that mark manifest.

It was probably for the best.

~*~

 

When Boba was nineteen, he met his soulmate. 

Then shortly returned to Slave I to burn the visible mark from his skin.  He wished he could burn it completely out of himself.

He had met his soulmate.

But he was not his soulmate’s soulmate.  Made worse that his soulmate’s mark had the indicator of true love.

The sliver of hope he had held for some happiness in his life crumbled to dust. 

_Buy'ce olar, kar'ta ogir_

He’d turned cold.

He’d survive.

He’d thrive.

Fett rarely removed his helmet.

~*~

Some forty years later and Fett’s helping a remarkably stupid Jedi Master and his apprentice evading the First Order and get to the Resistance Base at the behest of the Maz Kanata. 

The apprentice will not shut up about looking forward to being with her two soulmates again.  Amazing how after so many years the subject still manages to tear Fett apart inside.  There are advantages to wearing a helmet. 

But with Jedi sometimes even a helmet isn’t enough.  He really doesn’t need to concerned looks Skywalker’s giving him.  Doesn’t need the underlying pity.  Just wants this final mission over with so he can go back to his farm and finish out his days.

~*~

Stupid Jedi is all Fett can think as Master Skywalker tried to stop the bleeding.

Everything dies.  Love.  Hope. Dreams. Everything dies. 

Fett had accepted that so long ago he barely remembers time it wasn’t a core part of his being.

“Give up Skywalker,” he wheezed, almost laughing, “There’s nothing you can do.”

The Jedi master sighed in defeat and turned his attention from trying to keep the life from flowing out of Fett’s body to keeping the pain to minimum, as if he knew Fett would never forgive him if he took it away completely.

“Giving up isn’t like you, Fett,” Skywalker said as he settled himself beside the dying bounty hunter.  They were safe enough for the moment.

“I’m tired, Jedi,” Fett confessed, “and there’s nothing to bind me to this life.”

“Your soulmate is still alive,” the Jedi tilted his head quizzically, “that much I can feel.”

“Yes, and so is his true love.  Some of us aren’t as lucky as your apprentice, Jedi,” but there really wasn’t any bite in his words.  Fett sighed and let his eyes close, “what is, is, Skywalker.  Life’s not fair.  It’d be hell if it was.”

“I don’t believe that,” Skywalker said quietly, taking hold of Fett’s hand.  Fett was fading fast

“Suit yourself, Jedi, but I’d hate to think I deserved all the crap that happened to me.  Most it probably,” he weakly chuckled, “but not all of it.”

After that there was just silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no clue who Boba Fett's soul mate was. It wasn't Luke in this story; it might possibly be Lando tho'.
> 
> See Mokulule's Comment for new Official Ending.


	12. Pan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ghost of Han Solo makes a desperate last minute change to the timeline.

Han

Han is disoriented.

His son, his child, his baby just

Killed him?

Han’s not certain where he is now.

He’s not entirely certainly when he is.

But something, something (what did that old man, Rex, tell him before Endor?) tells him he has a chance to change things.

Maybe for the better.

Maybe he can’t save all of them.

But he doesn’t have long.

It’s a small change, a silly change, and it really is a last second thing, but before he fades completely he has some small measure of hope that it may be _enough_.

*~*

Someone, not naming names here (Palpatine), really should have paid attention when CT-5385, Tup, started rather obsessively offering bread or the local equivalent to the Jedi.  His brothers worried, but since it was such a harmless and frequently appreciated gesture in a very dark time they just kept an eye on him and accompanied him when he went looking for bakeries.

(Later when Echo is recovered and when Echo’s physically recovered enough, Kix and Fives let Tup smuggle in the alderaanian pastries that Echo once mentioned he’d like to try.)

*~*

“General?” Cody’s voice was uncertain, worried, and generally nothing like it should be.

Obi-Wan looked at Cody and almost immediately put an arm around the clone’s shoulder and guided him to a place he could sit.  The other clone troopers seem slightly dazed as well, but they continue the clean up of Utapua.

“Yes, Cody?” Obi-Wan radiated concern.

“I, we, just got orders, sir,” Cody blinked, “We’re suppose to offer you breadsticks?  Sir?  But we don’t have any here at the moment.”

“Breadsticks?”

“Yes, sir.”

Kenobi considered this.   Cody really seemed distressed that he couldn’t give Obi-Wan breadsticks.  Obi-Wan patted Cody’s shoulder.

“You continue over-seeing operations here, and I will send in a requisition for some breadsticks.”

“Thank you Sir,” Cody stood up and seemed much happier about the matter.

Later when Obi-Wan got on the comms he discovered that something quietly insane was going on.  Every Jedi was reporting that the clone troopers were either offering them breadsticks or whatever the edible equivalent was for the Jedi in question, or they were freaking out because they didn’t have any breadstick to offer and would the Jedi forgive them?   The younglings at the Temple were making out like bandits since they persuaded the troopers there that cookies/sweets were acceptable.  The Chancellor had issued the order, but apparently he had had something very different in mind, and now he was in custody as a Sith Lord and Anakin Skywalker was heavily sedated and would Obi-Wan please return to Coruscant?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This admittedly silly ficlet is the result of my having heard "execute order sixty-six" as "bring them breadsticks" when I was half-asleep. The idea of Han's ghost somehow falling backward in time and making the only change he could seemed to fit.


	13. Bread & Salt & Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A TESB au. I'm not certain where this came from. I'm also finding that in several headcanons that Lando and Boba have had some kind of past together.
> 
> Warnings: non-graphic vomiting

**_Bespin_ **

Bread and salt and blood.

Bread and salt and blood.

Bread and salt and blood.

Boba had learned this at his Dad’s knee.  The two of simplest and most forbidden of spells.  Bread and salt and blood were all you needed for either of them.

Of course, most magic was unofficially forbidden by Mandalorian culture and customs.  Even simple rain spells were looked at askew.  There was a reason farmers tended to spook Mandalorian warriors and aristocrats alike.   History tended to gloss over that Cassus Vhett had been feared not only because his strategic brilliance but because he had been a powerful sorcerer and his descendants had that power bound in their bones by Cassus.  Which was the primary reason why they claimed not to know if they were his descendants.  Why they used the Basic pronunciation of their family name.  Why they made sure they had a piece of beskar on them at all times.

But they still passed down the lore. 

And Boba was on _his_ knees, stripped of his armor in front of Darth Vader, all because Lando Calrissian told Vader that Fett could do magic.  Of all of the mistakes Boba had made in his youth, the ill-fated liaison with Calrissian was the one he regretted the most.

“Can it be done, Bounty Hunter?” Vader thundered.

Boba looked up at him sourly, and then even more sourly at Calrissian.

“Yes,” he finally answered sullenly, glaring at the towering Sith Lord, “I can do it, but I’m not going to.”

The wall hit him incredibly fast. He almost missed Vader’s growled:

“Reconsider.”

Due to the ringing in his head.

Then Vader left him alone with Calrissian dithering, making weak protests.

He managed to push himself off the floor, and then slumped, seated against the wall.  Calrissian knelt down beside Fett.

“What is going on, Fett?” Calrissian growled under his breath as he actually checked to see what damage had been done.

“You told him I could make it rain,” Fett growled back, but then vomited on Calrissian.

After Calrissian swore but got everything, including Fett cleaned up, he asked quietly:

“What has that got to do with anything?”

Fett managed a glare.

“You told him I could make rain; a non-force user who can make rain come,” Fett said weakly, “and bearing the name _Vhett._   He’s not stupid, Calrissian.”

Lando closed his eyes, gritted his teeth.

“Dammit, Boba, what does he want you to do?”

“To bind Skywalker to his will,” Fett slurred, “and resurrect his dead wife.”

“He had a wife?  Wait, can you do that?”

“Yes.”

Lando stared at Fett.  Fett looked back, and Lando was appalled at how fragile the bounty hunter looked at that moment.

“I’m not going to do it, Calrissian.  Neither spell; the cost is too high,” Fett shuddered, then leaned against Lando.  Lando almost didn’t hear it, “I’m afraid, cyar’ika.”

Lando wrapped his arms around Fett.  He was going to have to think of a way to save his friends, his city and now Fett from the Empire.  Force help them all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not entirely certain how magic works in this universe, although intent matters, and how it is different from the Force. But Cassus' arrogance and his claiming more power than he should have claimed have messed up his descendants very badly in this AU.
> 
> So why didn't the clone troopers have magic bound in them? Well, Jango considered Boba his son, he didn't consider the clone troopers his children, so they were spared.


	14. First Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke Meet Boba. Boba Meet Luke. Neither one of you is going to remember this for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Gen, and happens in multiple timelines in my various headcanons.
> 
> Warning: death of a Toydarian.

When Luke was six years old his Aunt Beru took him with her when the Tatooine Traveling Bazaar came to Anchorhead.  The Bazaar circled Tatooine reaching each settlement at least twice a year.  For some settlements it was the only true market place they could reach without long and dangerous trips to Tatooine’s few cities.  Not so for the Anchorhead settlement, but it was generally agreed upon that waiting for the Bazaar was usually better than traveling into Mos Eisley.  
  
Luke initially enjoyed seeing new things and meeting new people, but he started to get bored, and Aunt Beru was standing with her friends and catching up on all the latest gossip the traveling merchants carried with them.  So with all the quiet curiosity of a young boy he slipped away from the chatting group to explore on his own.  Mostly he was ignored as he scampered his way through the crowds, but a few people noticed him.  A Toydarian textile merchant shouted at him when he accidently knocked a bolt or two of cloth down.  A pale purple Twilek patted him on the head and gave him a laser-ribbon stick (that promoted her skills as a mechanic) to his delight.  
  
On the edge of the bazaar, under a reflective storage tent, there was a young man wearing a tannish gray work suit sitting on a packing container.  One leg hung down, the other he had tucked under himself.  He had short black hair that was a bit messy and spiky. His eyes were closed.  His most striking feature was a fresh, angry-looking raw scar that ran down from just above his right eye, bisecting his eyebrow and then swept across the bridge of his nose to his left cheek.  
  
Luke had never seen anything quite so fascinating before. He wondered if the man had lost his right eye, and if, should he open it, there would be a gaping hole.  He couldn’t decide if that would be neat or scary.  
  
“If you’re going to stare, you might as well ask.”  
  
Luke stumbled back and almost sat down.  
  
“What what happened to your face?” Luke got out, wondering how the man knew he had been staring.  
  
The men opened his left eye to study Luke, then smiled and opened the right one to reveal, that yes, he still had the eye.  
  
“Got too close to a gundark,” he said casually.  
  
“There aren’t any gundarks on Tatooine,” Luke said back, his brow furrowing.  
  
“Which is why I’m here; no more gundarks for me,” he nodded in agreement.  
  
“Oh,” Luke thought about that for a moment, then asked, “what do you do?”  
  
“You mean at the bazaar?”  
  
“Uh-huh,” Luke nodded in turn.  
  
“I help people move stuff and set up their kiosks.”  
  
“I thought droids did that?”  
  
“Droids get filled with sand.  They break.  Me?  They just have to keep fed and watered,” there was another smile, but Luke felt there was something more to it; he just couldn’t think of what, “Is your name Luke?”  
  
Luke blinked in amazement. How did he know that?  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“I think your ma is looking for you," The man tilted his chin to indicate that Luke should look behind him.  
  
Luke turned around and saw Aunt Beru hurrying toward him, calling his name.  He turned back to tell the man that she was his Aunt, but the man was gone.  
  


* * *

 

  
Two day later the Toydarian textile merchant was found dead; his wings and snout sliced off.  Apparently he had swindled a Hutt and had thought he could lose the hunters on his trail by hiding on the planet galactically acknowledged as Jabba’s territory.  After all who would be stupid enough to hide there?   
  
No one noticed one of the roustabouts was missing as well.


	15. Lokum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the _very_ beginning of the relationship between Luke and Boba that appears in chapters two and ten.

Fett had long figured out that the universe had it in for him.  Why give him a happy childhood then have it ripped away?  Why give him martial skills and then shun him from the culture that valued them?  Why give him the face of the one person he desperately wanted to see again, but all reflections ever showed him was disappointment?  Always existing on the outskirts and edges.  Still, Fett had managed fight his way through life, breaking even some of the time.  Standing defiant against whatever got thrown at him.

Now the universe didn’t have the decency to let him die with even an ounce of dignity.

He had known he wouldn’t survive escaping the Sarlacc, which he mostly was escaping out of spite.  Death by explosion, or death by exposure and injuries once he was on the surface.  He had wanted the former, but being a realist expected the latter.  He’d cursed all the gods he’d never believed in when those miserable little scavengers stripped his face and form from him, not caring if he were still alive or not, exacerbating  the injuries of this useless corpse he was trapped in.  Leaving him exposed to the merciless heat of the Tatooine’s twin suns.

It was a strange feeling, feeling the life slowly bleed out of him.  He was more bothered by his anger, the anger that had sustained him since his father died, dissipating; all passion and drive vanishing from him as if they never existed.  Even the spite that normally kept his anger sparked was gone. 

And it all led to numbness. 

So when he saw the damn wannabe Jedi Vader had been chasing hovering over him in concern he just gave up.  Their eyes locked for an instance and Fett knew the bastard was ripping through his mind like the sarlacc had. Fett managed a gust of breath and closed his eyes.

~*~

After he was released from medical treatment, Luke found that caring for Boba Fett was like caring for a toy soldier droid that had had all but the most basic programming erased.  The (former?) bounty hunter could take care of himself, and clearly did, but he met no one’s eyes, said nothing, and even though there was abundant evidence he moved about Luke’s quarters during the day Luke found him seated on the couch in the same position he had left him in each day.  It disturbed Luke that he could literally pose Fett like a doll if he wanted to.

Of course, everyone (except Wedge, but he had seen the state Fett had been in when he helped Luke retrieve him) thought what he was doing was dangerous and that he should let Fett rot in prison.  They were probably right.  Two things, however, kept Luke from allowing that.  First, in his current state, Fett probably wouldn’t even last one day in a prison, and second, Luke couldn’t forget what he had felt in Fett’s mind for the few split seconds he had accidentally been in it.  He couldn’t explain it, and he was loath to try to reproduce the affect - no one should made to feel like that and Luke couldn’t shake that it would be an invasion of Fett’s privacy to share it.

It didn’t stop him from having long and exasperated conversations with his father’s Force Ghost as it had been Anakin who had sent Luke to Tatooine to save the bounty hunter.  Anakin has been adamant that Fett be recovered and tended to.   His reason chiefly seemed to be that Fett was the way he was because the Jedi dropped the ball and made a bad situation worse and Anakin wouldn’t elaborate any further than that because it was Fett’s story to tell.

“But what I am supposed to do?” Luke had ultimately argued, “Keeping him here in this state as a living reminder that the Jedi can be fallible seems cruel.”

“He’s not as far gone as he seems,” Anakin shrugged, “it may take a while, but he will get better, it’s,” he chuckled slightly, “it’s the Will of the Force.  Which is why I wanted you to recover him, I’d rather he get better here under your care, than elsewhere.  You and your sister are going to have enough problems without a rogue bounty hunter holding a grudge against you.”

~*~

A week or so after that conversation Luke returned to his quarters from a very long day trying to convince a group of senators that he had no intention of restarting the fostering practices of the old Jedi order and that he was still working out exactly how the new Jedi order would function when he found Lando Calrissian arms crossed sitting in a chair across from Fett on the couch and box of very expensive something on the table in front of Fett.

“Lando?” Luke asked hesitantly, “What are you doing?”

Lando looked over at Luke with sad grin.  He levered himself out of the chair, did a little stretch and shake, and walked over to Luke.

“Trying make an apology,” he admitted, he glanced back over to the unmoving Fett, “to make a long story short, we had a relationship when we were very young, it got screwed up, mostly by me I admit.  I thought I didn’t care anymore especially after what happened on Bespin, but,” he shrugged, “but when you brought him here, it shook me up to see him like that.  Regardless of what he’s done...” Lando shrugged again.

“What’s in the box?” Luke asked as he went to take a look.  He got the feeling what Lando was telling him was something not a lot of people knew about.

“Atzerrian lokum.  He used to love the stuff,” was the amused answer.

Luke was startled to realize he was mildly jealous; he liked Atzerrian lokum as well and the flower that gave it its flavor was becoming increasingly rare in the wild on Atzerri, and hothouse grown just didn’t taste as good.

“How long were you sitting there?”

“Two hours.  I talked for about a half hour,” Lando had to shrug yet again, “he hasn’t moved or responded.”

Luke glanced from Lando to Fett and back.

Lando nodded wryly, then shook his head with a laugh.

“Anyway, I had better be off; a charity sabacc game, if you can believe it,” Lando said cheerfully as he moved towards the door.

“Han told me about that,” Luke replied as he accompanied Lando, “he and Chewie are going to be watching...” something flew through the air and hit Lando’s squarely between the shoulders.  Not hard, just a very light thump, and both men turned.

The top of the box of Atzerrian lokum was lying on the floor at their feet.  They turned their attention to Fett and noted that while he apparently had not moved, the rest of the box and its contents were nowhere to be see.

“Well,” Lando’s grin was genuine, “maybe I did do some good here.  Good night Luke,” he called further back, “good night Fett.”

Once he was gone, Luke picked up the box lid, and wandered back to Fett.  He saw that the box had been carefully tucked into shelf by the arm of the sofa.  He set the lid down, and went to change out of his Jedi robes.

~*~

 

There were four pieces of lokum carefully placed on the table in front of the chair Luke normally sat in, and the box, recovered, was back on the table. 

And Fett still didn’t seemed to have moved.

Luke picked up one of the pieces and popped in his mouth and imagined he could hear Leia giving him a heart-felt, but exasperated, lecture on why he shouldn’t be eating something Boba Fett was offering.  Luke had heard people describe the taste really well made food as life-changing, and at the moment he had to agree.  The lokum was delicious, and it left Luke wondering if he could persuade Lando to bring more, for therapeutic purposes.  He decided he had better made him dinner before eating the rest.

“You know,” he said, since he usually talked aloud, even if Fett didn’t respond.  It made it seems little less creepy, “on Tatooine, after a certain age, sharing food other than just the staples was seen as flirting on most the settlements.  I don’t know what it was like the cities though,” looked like it was going to be prepackage Correllian stew, again, “anyway that lokum, well, a lot of people would consider sharing _that_ tantamount to proposing,” Luke chuckled.

“I spent a lot of time on Tatooine, how do you know I’m not?”

The soft drawling voice was raspy from disuse and the stew would have gone everywhere when Luke dropped it, but he was able to catch just before it hit the floor using the Force.  He did not turn to look.

“Proposing with candy someone else gave you is _not_ a serious proposal,” Luke said drily.

“You don’t want it, I can take it back.”

Luke considered it; it had been a long time since he had had something that had tasted so good.

“I’m not that picky; I’ll keep it.”

When he turned around again, a piece had been placed to replace the one he had eaten.  But Fett still wasn’t looking at Luke.  Luke sat down in his usual chair.

“I know you’ve probably eaten already, but would you like something?  I sometimes feel a little guilty sitting here eating, while you have nothing in front of you,” Luke said gesturing with his fork at Fett.

Fett slowly lifted his eyes from the spot on the floor he always seemed to find fascinating to a spot just beyond Luke’s shoulder and replied:

“Pointing eating utensils at people is considered rude; it implies you’re planning on stealing their food,”  cloudy brown eyes slowly blinked, “or possibly you’re planning on eating them, and then it’s considered ruder not to follow through...I never quite got that part.”

It took Luke a moment, but he had to set the bowl and fork down on the table.  He let his face drop into his hands, and did his best to stifle the urge to laugh.  Either Fett genuinely didn’t get the joke, or he was playing with Luke.  What little he had seen in Fett’s mind during their accidental connection made both entirely possible.

When he looked up Fett was looking at him, and for a split second Luke thought he did see a glint in Fett’s eyes, and was the corner of Fett’s mouth turned up?  Luke felt a weird thump inside.  He sat up straight and leaned back in his chair and finally really took a look at Boba Fett.  He was startled to find he _liked_ what he saw.

_Will of the Force my backside_ , Luke thought, _this is stupid and dangerous, but then so was throwing my lightsaber away in front of the emperor_.

Still Luke smiled at Fett.

And Fett smiled back.


	16. Some Verbal Adventures of Fett & Calrissian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scenes from a youthful relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning:Dialogue only. Geonosian Sand Snakes.

“Probably not a good time to mention I get seasick?”

“Seasick?!?  You said you grew up on a planet that was all ocean!”

“Tipoca City didn’t roll up and down like this.”

“Fine, but if you throw up on my shoes, Fett, I’m throwing you over board.”

“You’re all heart, Calrissian.”

*~*

“How did we end up here?”

“You wanted to see the rancors, Lando.”

“Not this is close up.”

*~*

“Hurmph.”

“Wake up there’s something on the bed.”

“Nnnnnn.”

“Wake up, Bo, I think it’s a snake.”

“Hrmmmmphno”

“ _Wake up_ or I’m leaving you’re here for the huge-ass snake.”

“snake tan furry?  mouth middle a body?”

“…”

“…”

“Yes.”

“don’worry.  it’s bin-ban.  m’pet.”

“You have a pet snake that’s, what, ten meters long?”

“uhuh.  not ten meters, two meters.  two o’em actually.”

“Two?”

“go back sleep love.  snakes’ll still be in here in morring.”

*~*

“Don’t scare me like that!”

“I was perfectly safe; Gr’ndelz would never have soiled his teahouse with a body.”

“He had a kriffin’ disruptor, Calrissian.  He’d have just swept the ashes out.”

“Don’t be silly, he’d never get rid of the smell.  Hey.  Hey are you…?  Crap, Bo, you’re crying.  Come’ere.”

“Don’t scare me like that.”

“Shh, I won’t, shh.  I’m all right.  I’m all right.”


	17. Escapees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imprisoned by the Empire for Treason, two men have just made good an escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have drifted into Star Wars Rebels territory
> 
> Warnings:This is pretty much an AU. There is, if you're of a mind for it, a very very faint whiff of Kalluzeb

It took Kallus a few minutes to catch his breath.  He couldn’t quite believe that the escape plan he had hatched with a voice in the dark had actually worked.  But they were on a stolen freighter, and well on their way to somewhere the Empire would not find them.  He turned in the co-pilot seat to finally get a good look at his co-conspirator who had just done the same thing.   He had guessed clonetrooper from the concordian accented voice; the man had sounded very much like the clonetrooper that Zeb and his fellow rebels had adopted.  This man still had a head full of thick curly iron grey hair, except for a patch that was growing back in and would eventually cover the fresh scar on the side of his head.  He had another fainter scar curling around his left eye.

Kallus held out his hand.

“I’m Kallus.”

They had agreed not to exchange names until they escaped.  Both agreeing that knowing a name would make a failed attempt or only one of them managing to escape the Imperial Prison worse.

The old clonetrooper stared at Kallus’ hand for a moment before grasping it with both his hands.

“Cody, I was called Cody.”

They both grinned widely, and impulsively hugged one another.  They were, for the moment, free.

“Where do you want to go, Cody?

Cody looked blank for a moment, then tiredly answered.

“I want, I want to find the Rebellion,” he gave Kallus a grim smile, “I have a lot to make up for.”

Kallus nodded, understanding.

“I do as well.  I have,” he considered what to call the Lothal rebels, what to call Zeb, then settled on, “friends in the Rebellion.  We’ll start there.”


	18. Taking A Gamble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lando meet Boba; he has a proposition for you.

He was being watched and had been for a few days now.  Followed as well, and wasn’t that unnerving since Lando had only just realized this half an hour ago.  He usually better than that, not as good as some (but those some were smugglers/grifters/conpersons who had been at it for years longer and they grudgingly admitted the twenty-one year old man was _good_ ) which meant this was a professional and that meant Lando had attracted the attention on someone who might not have his best interests at heart.  So as he finished the hand of sabacc he casually scanned the on-lookers and, yes, his stalker was still there - dull green armor and a distinct helmet.   But the places Lando had been in recently that wasn’t unusual garb, but today, here, in _Hozzi’s Restaway_ , where the mix of casual patrons skewed to a higher income, it stood out a little.  It had been enough to make Lando realize that he had been _seeing_ that same armor everywhere, but he hadn’t really _noticed_ it.

So he yawned and stretched and made a big deal of declining another hand, before he announced he was calling it a night.  There were several irritated barks, but he hadn’t won big enough to get the regular gamblers riled.

He wandered out, people watched a bit and then hopped a public transport, and began a complicated route towards his current quarters.  Once he was certain he had his stalker following him, oh he didn’t see him but he was there, Lando used the cover of the main transport hub to lose them. 

It was going to be long and wild round-about way to a safe house.  But worth it to lose the green armor.

***

Lando let out a deep sigh of relief when the door slid shut behind him.  Always have more than one bolt hole.  He had learned that the hard way.  This wasn’t as nice as his other two, but it was the one hidden most deeply; there was no way he had been followed here.  He waved his hand toward the light sensor and lost the self-congratulatory feelings.

The green armor was sitting on the shabby couch with helmet tilted as if wondering: what took you so long?

Lando hadn’t felt angry in quite some time, anger didn’t help you when you trying to hoodwink someone and it could make you sloppy.  Still anger boiled up and he slammed his hand back against the wall.

“All right, who are you?!?  What do you want?!?” he demanded.

“You’re Lando Calrissian,” the statement was so casual, it almost drew attention away from the voice asking.  The voice was somewhat modulated, but Lando was almost certain the armor held a human, or a near human from the sound of it, “I have proposition for you.”

Lando folded his arms in front of him and stared into the dark “T” shape of the helmet.

“It will be profitable for you.”

He wasn’t going to say anything until he had a name.

“Two thousand credits for just the attempt, five thousand more if _you’re_ successful.”

That was tempting, but without knowing what ‘it’ was he still wasn’t budging and Lando still wanted a name.

“And if _I’m_ successful, another eighty thousand or so credits.”

That startled him enough that his arms dropped and he stepped forward before he realized it.  He quickly crossed his arms again, but his interest was definitely piqued.

“All right, I’ll listen to your proposition, but I still need a name,” Lando said grudgingly.

The helmet tilted again, considering.

“I am Boba Fett.”

Lando sucked in his breath, he had heard of Boba Fett, a bounty hunter who mostly worked on the Outer Rim, but who was undeniably on the rise.  There were rumors he was related to the late great Jango Fett, but those were unsubstantiated.  Lando was reasonably certain he didn’t have any bounties on his head, but that was never a sure thing.

“Have you heard of the _Starlight Bar and Grill_ on Coruscant?”

“What gambler hasn’t?” Lando replied automatically, although just the mention of the _Starlight Bar and Grill_ was beginning to fit pieces into the puzzle, “the most high-end casino in the entire galaxy.”

Technically it was not a casino, Imperial Law forbidding such establishments in the more civilized Core Worlds, and despite the banality of the name it was a well-established and well-appointed restaurant and hotel…where if some of the more powerful and wealthy civilian members of the Imperial government and some of the more powerful member of the Imperial military and their assorted hangers-on occasionally got together to play innocent games of chance, well who would complain about such a harmless event?  (Rumor had it that one such game was well into its fifth year and two of the players had married each other within that time period, all while never letting the other see their cards.)  The best of the best played there.

“An acquisition has gone to ground there, and finding an alternate means of entry has proven more difficult than I anticipated,” Fett sounded childishly irritated.  Lando found that strangely appealing.

“And you can’t get in the front door wearing that,” Lando hid a chuckle, as he sat down across from him in the only other chair in the pokey apartment, “it sounds like you can afford the entry fee, why not just shed the armor?”

Even with the armor, Lando could see the defensive hackles rising and cursed himself.  But Fett just said:

“I’d still stand out like a bantha at a banquet, and the besalisks guarding the entrance are choosey regarding the unknowns they let in.  But as the bodyguard of a smart, handsome, and smooth-talking up and coming gambler, I’d just be so much window-dressing.”

“I can see why you need me if that’s how you try to convince people to do what you want,” Lando smirked slightly.

“I usually use a blaster,” Fett shot back, aiming his as demonstration, “works most of the time too.”

Putting up his hands Lando did his best to look contrite, and Fett settled the blaster back down.

“Still, an up and comer like me is more likely to have a beautiful consort on his arm, the better to charm and distract the other players.”

“I take back the smart part.”

Lando was speechless for a moment, but then laughed aloud.

“You’re still going to have shed the armor,” he said wiping mirthful tears from his eyes, “you’re too obvious in it.”

“I might be more obvious without it,” Fett groused, but he hesitantly removed his helmet.

“Oh.”

The man was dark haired, amber-eyed, good looking, a bit rough around the edges, _familiar_ in a can’t quite put a finger on it way.  There was a scar tracking from his forehead down over his right eye splitting the eyebrow, across the bridge of his nose and trailed off on his left cheek.  The scar was so fresh his skin hadn’t had time for the hyperpigmentation to fade back to the man’s normal tan.  It definitely drew your attention.

How in the seven hells did he not lose his eye? Lando wondered, then slowly started to nod.

“We can work with this,” he reached out to gently touch where the scar started on Fett’s forehead; the bounty hunter immediately tensed and the blaster tentatively lifted, but all Lando did was lean closer lost in thought, studying Fett’s face.  There was definite potential there.  He leaned back, and Fett relaxed, “I accept your proposition, but _you_ are going to have _trust_ me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be more to this and everything else I'm working on, but work is kicking me hard right now. :(


	19. What's In A Name?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that season finale didn't end as bleakly as I thought would for Agent Kallus (I'm still bummed about Sato tho'), but we still don't know his full name. So this is a bit of absurd Kalluzeb fluff.

"Err, my name really is just Kallus," Former ISB Agent, now Rebel Kallus said somewhat apologetically.

"But your family, your parents...oh," Ezra trailed off at Kallus' raised eyebrow.  The rest of the Ghost's crew looked on in various stages of discomfort and disbelief.

"I was a foundling at one of Coruscant's better orphanages," he explained, "Kallus was supposed to be temporary name, to be replaced by whatever name my adoptive parents would decide upon.  I, I just was never adopted," Kallus shrugged nonchalantly, "when I was old enough I was transitioned into the Republic's Civil Service Academy, and later the Royal Imperial Academy and from there to the ISB.  It's a good thing when you think about it.  Thrawn, the Empire, have no one to punish in my stead."

He looked around at the dismay on their faces.  He had a feeling he was missing something, but didn't quite know what.

"Anyway, Kallus is a perfectly serviceable name," Kallus said, wrapping his arms around himself, his shoulder’s hunched.

"Karabast, I'm too tired for this," Zeb muttered, and then crossly looked at the datapad of information the Rebellion insisted it needed that Hera had, "just put him down as Kallus Orrelios and we'll get the rest of it sorted in the morning."

The Lasat stood, stretched, took the unresisting Kallus by the arm and lead him to the crew quarters.  Kallus’ face was comically blank, as if something just didn’t compute, but as Zeb’s hand slipped from his elbow and his arm wrapped around Kallus’ waist a stiffness melted.  Kallus relaxed and his whole body leaned into Zeb.

“Ah, did Zeb, did Zeb just adopt Kallus?” Ezra asked cocking his head.

Sabine side-eyed him hard.

“I think it was an entirely different proposal.”

“Oh? Oh!”


	20. Fluffy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kallus really wishes Zeb was more careful about what he says to people, particularly grateful Kaminoan scientists.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a kid ficlet, more precisely a baby lasat-human hybrid ficlet. I'm not entirely certain what inspired me to write this. Set sometime between New Hope and Empire Strikes back on base that is decidedly not Hoth.
> 
> Written during my lunch hour.

The young Kaminoan geneticist, Kniwta Sa, had been so enthusiastic that she was finally able to show her gratitude to Kallus and Zeb for rescuing her from the Empire.  She was disappointed that Zeb was away on a mission, but that hadn't dampened her spirits.  Kniwta had handed Kallus the tiny bundle and had her droid assistant bring a large number of items she said should help Kallus and Zeb take care of their baby girl.

Kallus had stood there, feeling quite numb, holding the infant, as the almost unnaturally cheerful Kaminoan bid her farewell and that she would be available for check-ups anytime the baby needed them.  All he could think of was that he had warned Zeb that Kaminoans didn’t really have a sense of humor and tended to take things a little more literally than most species, but all Zeb had done was laugh, wrap an arm around Kallus’ shoulder and tell him to lighten up.  Now Zeb’s glib request for a baby for “me and m’sweetheart" when Kniwta had asked if there was anything she could do to for them had landed squarely in Kallus’ lap.

And the covert mission Zeb was on wasn’t due back for six standard weeks.

Finally he sat down on the modestly large bed unique to the quarters he shared with Zeb, and carefully unswaddled the baby.

She was really quite a remarkable little thing now that he had the chance to really look her over, more lasat-looking than human.  (Kniwta had explained the only way to make a viable hybrid was to have 61 percent lasat genes and 39 percent human genes and she really hoped Kallus didn’t mind.)  Her fur far softer than Zeb's, and far fluffier, but that might just be a baby lasat thing; striking too, with bold dark purple stripes already developing against pale red gold fur.  Her eyes, not quite fully open yet, were blue at the moment and Kallus wasn't certain whether that was because of human genes that had come from him and that they would turn brown or green as she grow older (did that happen with lasats too?), or whether the color was a compromise between his brown eyes and Zeb's green.  The ears were definitely lasat; soft little points that hadn’t quite unfurled completely yet.  Having five digits on each hand did seem slightly off, but then who knew what other differences would manifest as the human/lasat child grew older?

Kallus carefully wrapped her back up in her blankets, and tucked her against his side as he called up information on how to take care of a 'newborn' infant.  There was more than enough, frequently contradictory, information on how to take care of a human child, but very little on how to care of a lasat infant.  He wasn’t entirely certain, despite her perky confidence, that Kniwta knew what a lasat-human hybrid would need in order to thrive.

Kallus shifted the baby until she was cradled in both arms against his chest, and lay back on the bed, legs still bent over the side.  He really wanted to scream and curled up in a ball, since he was ambivalent at best on the subject of children and specifically the idea of trying to raise one himself.

"Well, little one," he said softly, as he patted her back gently, "I will endeavor to do my best, but Garazeb is going to get an earful when he returns."

Her ears twitched.

"Hmm, do you already know your, your father's name?  Garazeb?" another twitch, "do you know mine?" he asked forlornly, "Kallus?"

He was rewarded with a soft coo and sigh.

“And what should I call you?  Zeb really should have a say,” Kallus carefully rolled himself up to sitting again, “but I can’t keep calling you little one, and people are going to ask, since I can’t stay in our quarters until he’s back.”

The baby snuffled, wriggled and worked one little hand out, placing it over Kallus’ heart, the tiniest claws Kallus had ever seen snag onto his shirt.  He raised an eyebrow, then narrowed his eyes.

_Karabast she’s tiny_.

“If I didn’t know better I’d say you did that deliberately,” he stroked back of the little hand with the tip of his index finger, careful not to go against the way her fur lay, “Zeb would be proud, and possibly jealous; between you and me, little one, Zeb can’t act his way out of a flimsi container."

There was a chime from the door.

“Ah yes, that would be Wedge,” he explained with a smirk, standing up, “whenever your father has to leave me behind somewhere, he always asks someone to keep an eye on me to make sure I’m eating, I’m not overworking myself, or generally making a hermit of myself.”

He smiled mischievously at the baby.

“Let’s go cause trouble.”

And he opened the door.

 


	21. Fluffy II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: I really don't know what to warning for in this, but if you feel I need to warn for anything, please let me know. I'm always happy to add it.
> 
> Also I've made quite a bit of stuff up.

The Ghost returned to the Rebel base late at night, a full week and a half later than originally scheduled.  Liberating some additional and rather unexpected political prisoners in addition to the original mission of sneaking a system ruler’s _very_ extensive family off an Imperial held planet as part of sealing an alliance with that system ruler and an unexpected encounter with Thrawn had made their journey back a touch more difficult than anticipated.

The debriefing was going to be a nightmare.

It was late enough, and everyone tired enough, that it was decided the debriefing could wait until the next morning to avoid people falling asleep in the middle of answering a question.  Nonetheless, General Draven stepped in front of Zeb, and bluntly said:

“You need to watch what you say.  **Take care of them**.”

And then Draven stomped off.

A little further on he encountered Antilles and Skywalker, returning from patrol, and both looked at Zeb, gave him nervous smiles and shook their heads.

The few others he encountered had similar reactions.  The wookie, Chewbacca, laughed at the sight of him.

“...everyone acting weird...” Zeb grumbled under his breath, as he tapped the keypad to his shared quarters.  The door slid open.

Zeb took a step back. 

He closed his eyes, leaned in and took a good _sniff_.

His eyes opened and he stalked into the room.  Zeb unconsciously let out a low growl.

Their quarters hadn’t changed that much; it looked Kallus had brought in an extra table, and there was a cradle beside the bed on Kallus’ side.

At the moment, the cradle was empty.

Its occupant currently was curled up against Kallus’ chest under his half-unbuttoned shirt as he half-way reclined on the bed, a reading bolster supporting his back, data pad in one hand.  He was watching Zeb, his face carefully blank.  His only movement the minutest shifting of the arm curled around the baby.

Zeb prowled around the room, sniffing and growling, until he was standing over Kallus.  He loomed over the human and the lasat-human baby as he leaned down and inhaled.  The growl evolved into a deep, deep purr-like sound.  He pulled in another deep breath before touching his forehead to Kallus’.

Then he licked Kallus’ face from chin to forehead.  He angled his head lower and gently did the same to baby, who let out an indignant little squawk.  After that Zeb turned tail and ran from their quarters like the entire empire was after him.

Kallus stared after him, vaguely stunned.  Then the baby started fussing, and his attention turned towards her.

~*~

Hera Syndulla had had made strange and unusual conversations in her life but Mart Mattin sitting down across from her in the mess before she’d had her first cafe of the day and start talking about “the baby” and maybe she should take custody of her because while he thought Kallus was doing a good job, and Zeb would adore her, but it was just a matter of time before they screwed up and Keeva was such a cute little thing who deserved better.

Hera blinked slowly, then she placed a hand over Mart’s mouth.

“Mart, what baby?  Who’s Keeva?”

“Wow, I would have thought Zeb would have…” he was interrupted when Kallus sat down at the table.  With a sleeping lasat baby in a sling against his chest.

“Good morning Hera,” Kallus said setting his tray and café down.  He looked at Mart.  Mart made himself scarce.  Kallus took a sip of cafe, “I don’t suppose you know where Zeb is?”

Hera’s lekku twitched for a moment as she stared at the child.

“No, I would have thought he’d be with you and?”

“Keeva,” Kallus sighed, “Zeb’s and my child.  Before you ask ‘how?’ do you remember when we rescued Kniwta Sa and Commander Cody?”

“Oh.  Oh no,” Hera facepalmed, “you did warn him.”

“Yes, I did,” Kallus said drily, looking fondly down at the sleeping ball of fluff, “I’ll tell you more, but I would really like to talk to Zeb first.”

“I haven’t seen him since we got back.  He said he was going to your quarters.”

“And he did; he came in growling and sniffing, then he licked my face, licked Keeva’s face, then ran out like Tarkin’s ghost was chasing him,” Kallus toyed with some of the food on his tray, “I would have followed him, but Keeva started fussing, and I didn’t want to leave her, nor did I want to go wandering around the base with her at night.”

“Did he now?” Hera looked decidedly dangerous.

*~*

The small officer’s lounge was all but deserted, except for Kallus.

“Uhm?”

Kallus looked up from the datapad Hera had given him.  It had surprised him when he received word that command did not want him present for the debriefing of the three Imperial political prisoners that the Ghost had brought back but now he was fairly certain he knew why.  Jahan Cross he could have dealt with, the former Imperial Intelligence Officer was smart and reasonable…and devastated at the destruction of his home planet.  But Yogar Lyste and Tarrant Jovan?  He detected the irritating hand of General Draven.  The man was unpleasant and made no bones about disliking Kallus (a mutual feeling) but he also seemed to adore Keeva from a distance.  But Kallus had found most of Rebel Command seemed to come undone in the presence of the baby – most curious.  He was going to have to ask Zeb about it.  But Zeb was going to have explain himself first.

Kallus looked at Zeb with a raised eyebrow and decidedly unamused expression.

“Uh?”

“I know you’re more articulate than that Garazeb,” Kallus said caustically, but softened it by reaching his hand out to Zeb.

Zeb took Kallus’ hand and sat down next to him on the couch.

They stared at one another for a few moments.

“A baby?  How?  I didn’t think you could have a baby?  But there she is and….” Zeb started to babble.

“Most human men can’t” Kallus said, “and I am not one that can.  Besides, I’m not certain if a natural human lasat pregnancy could occur even if I was.  Zeb, you…”

“But she smells as much like you as she does me,” Zeb interrupted, hand stopping just short of touching the tan baby sling, “she’s even got your coloring, well, mostly.”

Kallus set the datapad down and took Zeb hand with both of his.

“Zeb, do you remember when we rescued that Kaminoan scientist?  What you said when she asked if there was any way she could show her gratitude for getting her and Cody out safely?  _Do you remember what you said?_ ”

It was always fascinating watching the blood drain from Zeb’s face.  The short dense fur on his face seemed to suddenly shade closer to grey.

“But I was kidding!”

Kallus pulled Zeb’s hand so he could feel the baby’s warmth through the fabric of the carrier.

“And I told you that Kaminoans aren’t known for their ability to understand humor,” Kallus murmured drily, “So I woke up the morning after you left with Kniwta Sa at our door with a tiny little lasat-human hybrid.”

“Karabast!”

“Yes, and I’ve said that frequently in the last seven and a half weeks,” Kallus sat back tiredly, absently curling an arm around the carrier, “What happened last night, Zeb?”

“Err,” Zeb’s ear swivel up, and then down and flattened, “well, everyone I met as I was headed to you was acting weird, and then the door opened and I smelled, well, smelled her,” he nodded to the baby, “and I don’t know, I was tired and there was a strange lasat smell that smelled a bit like you in our quarters, and it took me a while parse together that it smelled like me too.”

“You thought?” Kallus puffed up a bit, mild anger stinging.

“I told ya I was _tired_ ,” Zeb growled a bit.

Kallus huffed, but settled again.

“Anyway, when I finally smelled the both of you together,” his ears twitched, “I knew what I was smelling and I panicked.  I mean let me at the bucketheads all day, but, well, I thought, the one time I really should have been with you, I was gone.”

He saw Kallus’ skeptical expression.

“You got a long body, you coulda been hiding a bitty girl like this in you for a while,” he said defensively, as Kallus scoffed.  Zeb continued, “and then you know it hit me, a baby.  Really a baby.  How the boggans could I raise a baby?  A kid?  I just kinda fled,” his ears drooped in shame.

Kallus waited, eyebrow raised.

“Hera’s read me the riot act,” Zeb admitted, “and I think sour old Draven was ready to skin me alive.”

“Yes, he has been acting weird,” Kallus muttered.

“Yeah, a lot o’ others let me know what they thought of me bolting like that, while I was looking for you.”

“I only told Hera,” Kallus’ brows knitted together, “although I suppose that I turned up at the morning briefing without you, might have been a bit obvious something was off.”

“Yeah, well, I knew Princess Leia was scary, but have you ever seen Skywalker mad?  I mean really mad?” Zeb shuddered, he paused finally having built the courage to make the request, “uhm, can I?  Can I hold her?”

For a split-second Kallus actually shrank back, then a self-disgusted look flickered across his face, and he carefully removed Keeva from the carrier across his chest. 

*~*

Keeva did not like it at all; it was time to sleep, so why was she being taken out of her nice warm pouch?  Away from her person’s scent?  No, she had to protest, had to let the world that this was just not acceptable, and she let out the loudest of her protest cries.

“Aw, now don’t be like that,” a deep rumbling voice that was not her person’s soothing baritone said as she was handed over to a set of large hands that were both scary and soft, “I’m yer, I’m yer Arga?”

“That is the Lasat term?” her person chuckled, as she was being shifted to rest against the interloper’s chest “karabast, she’s back to looking really tiny.”

Keeva snuffled.  All right, so the interloper smelled... good?  Familiar?  Certainly not the acrid scent anyone else who had held her that wasn’t her person. 

And he was warmer than her person although she still preferred to be in her sleeping pouch.

Still, this was acceptable.  Perhaps this one could be her other person.

Her mewing squeaks tapered off and she drifted back to sleep.

*~*

“Well, I’m going to take that as good sign,” Kallus murmured, as he leaned into Zeb’s side, “she doesn’t stop crying if I let anyone else hold her.”

“Baby lasats don’t like anyone but their parents holding them,” Zeb said off-hand as he marveled at just how weightless their little fluffy girl seemed, “they’re very vocal about it.”

“Ah, that would have been good to know,” Kallus sighed, vexed, curiously his eyes were being to sting, “Zeb, you’re going to have to tell me everything you know about lasat baby.  I can find enough information on human children, but Keeva is mostly lasat,” he stopped, touched his face and felt tears; how strange, “and I’ve spent the last seven and a half weeks terrified I was doing something wrong,” and he knew he was being unfair, “and **_I_ ** couldn’t run away.”

“Karabast,” Zeb’s shoulders slumped, “we’ve never talked about this.”

“To be fair, I don’t think either of us thought ‘this’ would ever happen,” Kallus gave a tired laugh.  Why was he feeling so exhausted all of a sudden?  He snuggled closer into Zeb’s side.

“That’s not what I meant,” Zeb said, but was distracted by something else, “Keeva?”

“Hmm, yes, an ancient Stewjonian warrior goddess,” Kallus said softly, beginning to feel more relaxed then he had since, well, since Kniwta Sa had handed him his daughter, “it actually means ‘Gentle One’.  I couldn’t keep calling her ‘little one,’ Zeb, and everyone kept asking.”

“Huh.”

Zeb felt Kallus nod against his side.  He contemplated their daughter and then looked at Kallus and found both were sounds asleep.  They still had a lot to talk about. 

Zeb snorted.

It could wait.

He wrapped an arm around Kallus’ shoulders, and then let himself drift off as well.


	22. And As For You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some reunions don't go as planned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More lunchtime writing.

_"And as for you,_

_where were you when I needed you?_

_You just look at me like you see_

_but you can't recall_

_I could name the day I heard you say "Remember me —_

_I'll be there for you, I swear, if you ever fall""_

*~*

It did not go as Rex thought it would.

He’d always thought if he reunited with Cody, there would be awkwardness, some brotherly tears, Cody begging forgiveness for not listening to Rex about the control chips, Rex assuring him that he didn’t need forgiveness, a warm reassuring hug, and everything would fall back the way they should be: Rex and Cody working in sync, side by side, fighting for the Rebellion.

Rex didn’t know what to make of this wary, sharp-eyed individual who Zeb and Kallus had rescued along with that Kaminoan scientist.

It _was_ Cody.  There was no mistaking the scar by his left eye, faded as it had from time.  There was no mistaking all the little tics and gestures and posture that had marked one of Rex’s brothers from another.

And still Cody stayed away from Rex, from Gregor, from Wolff, apparently preferring to stay by the side of the Kaminoan, Kniwta Sa. 

Rex thought perhaps it was due some feeling of shame, which Rex desperately want to assure Cody was a burden he didn’t need to carry.  Or at least not carry alone.

So Rex approached Cody one day when he was eating alone in the commissary.

He cautious sat down and waited until Cody looked at him.  And wasn’t that disconcerting?  The only other time he had seen that expression was on Boba Fett, when Fett has rather soundly pronounced that Rex and his Brothers were not _his_ brothers.  It was a cold knife’s edge look.

“Cody…”

“I thought you had died.  You were reported to have died on Mandalore,” Cody interrupted him.

“Obviously, I didn’t.  Cody,” he tried again.

“You knew I was alive?” there was something almost hopeful in the question, as if the right answer could fix everything.

“Yes?” Rex answered hesitantly.

The way Cody’s face became even colder told Rex that that was the wrong answer.

“I see,” Cody went back to eating his meal.

“Cody, can we talk? Please?”

“You gave up on me.” Cody said quietly.

Rex felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over him.

“I know I should have listened to you about the control chips,” Cody continued evenly, “I should have had it removed.  Maybe a things would have been different,” then he had to stop and take deep breath, beginning to fray, “but if our positions had been reversed, if you still had your control chip when Order 66, “ they both winced, “came down and I didn’t, do you honestly think I wouldn’t have taken on the Emperor himself to get to you?  To try and help you live with what you did?”

Cody was searching Rex’s face for something, and he shook his head as he didn’t find it.  He rose from the table, taking his tray.

“I thought we were Brothers.”

Rex sat there for a very long time.

*~*

_"And when I fell, the way we do_

_I reached for hands to pull me through_

_I had a friend on whom I thought_

_I could depend — but where were you?_

_Time goes out of mind_

_Who gets left behind?_

_Brother, should I call you brother now?"_

**_And As For You_ **

By Oysterband

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the curious, Kniwta Sa removed Cody's control chip and then absconded from the Empire with him and one viable Zillo Beast genetic sample.
> 
> Rex and Cody do eventually reconcile.


	23. I Did Warn You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two weeks or so after the last chapter...

“So,” Rex slid down the supply room wall cautiously to sit next to Cody, trying to figure out what Cody was holding, “you punched Commander Skywalker?”

Cody didn’t look at Rex, just kept looking at the flaily scaly thing that was squirming contentedly under his hands.  Cody curled around it further and rocked a little.

“He didn’t take ‘No’ for an answer, and wouldn’t stop asking his damned questions.”

“Ah, I see,” Rex made a mental note to finally sit down with his General’s son; between missions and the periodic scattering of the Alliance forces, Rex hadn’t been able to really talk to the young man.  He wasn’t certain how he felt about it either.

“Someone told him, someone told him I worked with General Kenobi,” Cody said tightly, pulling his shoulders in.

Well bantha poodoo, **_that_** was a subject even Rex was planning on steering clear of if he ever managed to reconcile with Cody properly.  At least until Cody chose to bring it up.  So instead he asked:

“What is that?”

“Zillo beast.”

“What?!?”

“Kni’ika finally succeeded in making a clone of the Zillo beast,” Cody stroked the creature’s flat scales, and it made a soothing trilling sound, “gave it to me.  Thought it might help.  Has helped. Haven’t named it yet.”

Rex scrubbed his face with his hand.

“Did she inform anyone else, someone in command, that she’s cloned it?”

 “She’s allowed personal projects,” Cody shook his head.

“Cody, the reports said the Zillo Beast was huge.”

“According to Kniwta, it will take centuries to reach full size,” the creature in question had finally wrapped four of its five limbs around Cody’s chest and now resting its head on his shoulder directing its trilling, chirping purr into his ear.  Rex would have sworn it had fallen asleep.  Its fifth limb just flopped down its back.  Cody wrapped an arm around it like it was a youngling, “It won’t even be as tall as a Wookie for sixty years standard.”

Rex leaned back and raised his eyes to the ceiling with a sigh.  He wanted to say that that wasn’t the point, but he knew Cody had to know that.

“I’m sorry,” Cody said, his voice quiet, “for what I said.”

Rex didn’t move, didn’t breathe.

“I’m not, I’m not ready yet,” Cody continued, “I’m angry.  Angry at almost everything.  And I…” he shook his head, “and I, I just _can’t._   Not yet.  But I want to.”

“Okay Cody, okay,” Rex replied, getting to his feet.  He’d come up with something to tell Command, but he’s make sure they understood that Cody wasn’t as unstable as they feared. 

“I’ll see you later then?” he asked cautiously hopeful.

Cody just nodded slightly.

To Rex it might as well have been a shouted affirmative.  He was not going to press his luck now though.  He was almost to the door when Cody called out.

“I did warn you.”

Rex felt a stab of fear as he turned.

“Warned me about what?”

Cody touched his thick iron gray hair, with a slight smile.

“That if you kept bleaching it like that, it all would fall out one day.”

Rex grinned.

“That you did, Brother, that you did.”


	24. Swearing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke encountered a set back, Boba helps him release his frustration.  
> Or these two idiots realize that maybe they've fallen in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is part of the "Head for Hondo" timeline. I really need to get a better name for this timeline. I'm happy to take suggestions.

Luke was trying very hard not to lose his temper.  Trying very hard not just chuck it all in and run back to Tatooine and be a moisture farmer.

He had honestly thought he was getting somewhere, but one impassioned speech from a Representative of a planet that had been part of the Confederacy of Independent Systems before the Empire and so much of what he had worked for was thrown back so many steps he just didn’t know if he had the strength to start up that mountain again.  And to be fair they had valid concerns.  There was no point to building a New Republic if the flaws that had torn the old Republic apart weren’t addressed. 

Luke just hadn’t thought the Jedi would be considered one of those flaws.

So he had, very politely, excused himself from the Talks, under the guise of needing to meditate on the esteemed Representative’s point of view.  He had calmly and serenely walked back to his quarters, well aware the media and others were watching his reactions closely.

But once inside his apartment, he shucked off the robes everyone expected him to wear, and kicked them out of the way.  Then he paused and taking a deep breath leaned down and picked them up.

“Why are you doing that?”

Luke’s head snapped up and saw Fett watching him from his usual spot on the couch.

“I…” Luke ran through all the reasons he should pick up his Jedi robes and they all amounted to because it was the Jedi thing to do.  Which would likely cause Fett to raise a scarred eyebrow.  So he dropped what he had picked up and wandered over to the couch and plopped down.  If Fett was going to make comments Luke could invade the couch.  Luke rolled his head back and closed his eyes.

Then Luke felt Fett shift a bit closer.  He still didn’t know how he felt about the man.  They had a definite connection, and recently, very recently, there were times when Fett had made him smile with a simple sharp look, an eye roll, a disdainful sniff, when people theoretically much closer to him couldn’t even with the most loving of gestures.  He carefully hid his surprise when Fett slid his hand under Luke’s.  He was slightly more surprised by himself when he folded his fingers over Fett’s hand, but there was something…something there that Luke was too tired to think about.

“They broadcast the talks.  Your departure is being analyzed and dissected, Skywalker.”

“I’ll be fine,” Luke sighed.

“You don’t have to be fine, Skywalker,” Fett was as gentle in his tone, as he was abrupt, “Scream. Rant. Rave.  Not going to stop you.”

And so Luke did.  He swore.  He cursed.  He made the most hideous insults on any number of people, places and things.  He turned the air blue, reaching into purple, then red hot and finally language so foul that it shimmered in its own white heat.  All the while his grip tightened on Fett’s hand.

Luke hadn’t realized he had stood up until he finished and found he had pulled Fett up with him.

“Better?”

It took Luke a moment of reflection before he smiled, tiredly yes, but smiled.

“Yes,” he chuckled, “I don’t think that’s a Jedi sanctioned way of releasing anger though.”

Fett laughed and snorted unexpectedly and looked embarrassed, and that made Luke smile even more.  Fett seemed to struggle with it for a moment, but he ended up smiling too, his hand twisting in Luke’s to a more natural hold.

And…it just seemed natural as well for them to both lean in until their foreheads were just touching.  Luke felt like had he found a piece of serenity he hadn’t know he had been missing, and he could feel Fett’s entire presence shift in the Force to a completely relaxed and content state.  Fett took Luke’s other hand in his own.

“Somethings _cannot_ be meditated away, Skywalker.”


	25. Hondo Ohnaka, Changer of Fate.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a decision made by Hondo Ohnaka changes the fate of the Galaxy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Death by decapitation and disruptor.

_Florrum, early in the Clone Wars_

"Well, you see by convincing Boba to tell you where the prisoners were," Ohnaka gave Plo Koon a wide apologetic grin, and laughed, "I went back on my word not interfere with Aura's plans, and got you some valuable information to boot, soo.."  Hondo raised a hand and his pirates trained their weapons on the Jedi, freed republic prisoners, and Bossk "I am thinking that Boba should stay here with me.  I am, afterall, an old friend of his Father's."

Ohnaka reached over and tugged the confused, but grateful child over to himself.

"Otherwise, you are free go," He waved his hand expansively towards the Jedi's ship, "shoo, go on now."

Both Kilian and Ahsoka started to say something, but Master Plo Koon stopped them with a graceful half-bow.

"Of course, we will not overstay our welcome."

As they left they heard an exchange between Boba and Ohnaka

"But what about Bossk?  He helped me..."

"I could only help one of you, Boba."

“But that’s not fair…”

(Years later Bossk would remember this exchange and gave Boba aid when he wasn't expecting it.)

*~*

_Somewhat Later_

Master Adi Gallia barely had time to register the charging horned Sith, when he was hit by something that resulted in the Sith _very briefly_ having a vaguely surprised then incredibly pained face as he was reduced to ashes.  Master Gallia had heard of weapons capable of tearing an opponent apart molecule by molecule, but she had never dreamed she would have such an up-close view and feel the sicken roiling of the Force that sudden death had caused. 

Maul was taken completely by surprise when his brother, Savage, disintegrated.  The discarded Sith howled in rage and to his own surprise grief.  In this distracted moment Obi-Wan finished what he started on Naboo, and Maul’s head sailed down to land in the ashes of his brother.

Then both Jedi turned to where the shot had to have come from.

The boy had armor on that was still far too big which should have been comical, except he cradled in his arms a disruptor rifle.  His face was blank, but he smiled when he heard Ohnaka’s laughter.

The fighting was dying down now that the treacherous pirates realized that their new leaders were somewhat reduced.

Hondo Ohnaka wandered out from the smoke of battle and clapped a hand on Boba’s shoulder.

“Ah, now that was some showmanship, Boba,” he chortled, “a daring last second rescue of the lovely lady Jedi, _and_ giving Kenobi a needed distraction.  Jango would be very proud!”

Boba looked up at Hondo with a look that Obi-Wan found disturbingly familiar.  It was the same one Cody would give him when he seriously considered a battle plan Anakin had suggested, and so was the slight smile when Boba just shook his head.

“I think,” Boba just barely gestured with his disruptor, “the Jedi should leave. Now.”

“And now you sound just like him,” Hondo said with a nostalgic sigh, then he turned the Jedi, “as the boy says, it is time for you to be going.  Although it had been good to see you again Kenobi!”

*~*

Two standard months later Adi Gallia was able to follow up on a suspicious circumstance and Chancellor Palpatine was revealed as a Sith Lord.  He was struck down by Anakin Skywalker who was furious that he had been being manipulated by someone he had thought he could trust.  Unable to deal with any further duplicity, Anakin Skywalker left the Order to be with Padmé Amidala openly.

Count Dooku was killed by Asajj Ventress in a suicide attack.  In Ventress’ final moments Barris Offee had held the dying woman and would swear that in her final moments Ventress had somehow returned to the Light.  When the Council proved skeptical of it, Offee chose to leave the Order and dedicated her life to helping those, Force-sesentive or not, who struggled with darkness.

General Grievous was rather unceremoniously destroyed when an anonymous Clone Trooper decided to land a troop carrier right on top of him.  The trooper chose to remain anonymous so every clone trooper had the possibility of being the one who began the end of the War and they leveraged that, with help from Senators Amidala, Organa and Mothma, into full citizenship.

The rest is a story for another day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm suffering a bit from writer's block recently, so any suggestions would be welcome. Just place them in a comment.


	26. Speculation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Night time speculation on a Jedi's house guest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It seems everyone has nicknames picked out for Zeb to call Kallus now that we know his official first name, so I'm adding mine. Shura, which is a Russian diminutive of Aleksandr.

“Of course, we will be honored,” Kallus smiled a little too brightly, as Zeb escorted the last member of the Lira San envoy out of their apartment. The smile fell away once the door closed, and he knocked back the half glass of Liran wine he was holding, and then sighed as his shoulders sagged.  He had meant what he said to the Liran Lasat; it had been the diplomatic envoys and attachés from other planets and systems that had truly gotten on his nerves.  Still the way Liran attaché, T’Kel Ketronivus, kept looking at him all evening, made Kallus want to punch him.  Fortunately, Zeb had steered the attaché away from Kallus as often as possible and towards the representative of a system that would like to start relations with Lira San.

Zeb’s ear swiveled toward Keeva’s room.  She had been put to bed with help of more guests that he or Kallus were comfortable, but she was a natural charmer and it was hard to deny her anything.  Besides Zeb was reasonably certain none of them would harm her.  Once he was certain she was still asleep, he wrapped an arm around Kallus, took the glass from his hand, and lead him to their bedroom.

“Come on, Shura, lemma get you comfortable,” Zeb murmured, beginning to pick at the fastenings of formal garb they had both worn for the ‘informal’ and ‘casual’ dinner party for Representatives that Mon Mothma had so politely request they host/steer for the on-going talks. 

Kallus let him for a moment, then took both of Zeb’s hands in his own, kissed them, before divesting himself of his clothing.  He appreciated Zeb’s attentiveness, but Zeb’s large, clawed hands didn’t always agree with the fussiness of Kallus’ formal wear.  Once he was stripped down to nothing, he did allow Zeb to pull a supremely soft sleepshirt over his head and untangle his arms into the correct sleeves.

Zeb, as usual, wore nothing.

After completing their nightly ablutions, and crawling into bed, Kallus settled on his back and waited.  He was not disappointed when a few moments later Zeb wrapped an arm around him and rolled him against his side.

“I’m fairly certain everyone is aware of how Keeva actually came be,” Kallus murmured, resting his head against Zeb’s shoulder, “but it seems every Lasat keeps looking at me like they want to run their hands down my front to see if you’ve ‘knocked me up’ again.  Ketronivus in particular.”

“Well, it’s not like I haven’t been tryin’, Shura,” a chuckle rumbled through Zeb, “an’ ol’ ‘Keli has a dirty mind... always has from what Chava’s said.”

Kallus pulled his head back and gave his husband ‘The Look,’ before rolling his eyes and shaking his head and settling back down against Zeb.

“I’m afraid,” Kallus said drily, faintly smiling, “Keeva is destined to be an only child then.”

Zeb snorted, but silence fell for a little while.

“I think I’ve figure out who Skywalker has secreted away with him,” Kallus murmured.  Trying to figure that out had become a favorite pastime of those only tangentially involved in the Talks; and for his own safety Kallus was, outside of events ‘requested’ by Mon Mothma, just barely part of the public side of them.  On the private side, he was working very hard for the body that once was the primary leadership of the Rebellion.

“Hrm?” Zeb pulled himself back away from sleep, “who?”

“Boba Fett,” Kallus said smugly.

Zeb’s eyes opened wide in the darkness.

“How do you figure that?!?”

“I might have been monitoring transmissions, to keep everyone honest,” they both scoffed at that, “and Skywalker’s guest has sent and received several heavily encrypted messages to and from,” Kallus gave a soft laugh, “Hondo Ohnaka.”

“Really?” Zeb’s brows raised, and he reflexively hugged Kallus tighter to himself, “and how does that make Skywalker’s mystery guest Fett?  Maybe he just has bad taste in friends.”

“Hmm, yes,” Zeb could feel Kallus’s smile against his shoulder, “It’s a little known fact, but _Slave I_ is technically registered to Hondo Ohnaka, and has been since before the Old Republic fell.  And not an hour after the second to last message, Ohnaka contact the Republic impound center and demanded ‘his’ ship back with all the items within it intact.”

Zeb considered this.

“That could just mean Ohnaka wants to get the ship back, and sell Fett’s stuff to collectors.” 

“Could be, but…” Kallus yawned deeply, and snuggled deeper into Zeb’s side, “Ohnaka slipped up on one transmission.  Didn’t encrypt it as thoroughly.  It was short but it said he was always glad to help his old friend’s son out.  Ohnaka was a known associate of Jango Fett.”

“Huh,” Zeb nodded, “But that still doesn’t account for why Luke Skywalker would have Boba Fett as a house guest.  Skywalker’s not stupid, Fett tried to kill’im a couple of times.” 

“Sadly true,” Kallus slurred, sleep beckoning rapidly, “back to square…” he trailed off, asleep.

Zeb’s chuckle rumbled through his body, before he joined Kallus.


	27. Why We Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hondo and Ezra have a brief discussion regarding Boba Fett.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lunch time writing, double drabble, not certain how listening to _What Becomes Of The Broken-Hearted?_ turned into this.

"He's a complete sleemo!" Ezra shouted, "how could he do that to Sabine? To the Mandalorians?  To Rex?  Rex is like his brother right?"

Ezra swung around to look at Hondo, and stopped.  He had never seen **_that_** look on Hondo's face before, and for a moment he could believe that the old Weequay pirate had once been a force to be reckoned with.

"Boba Fett," Hondo said very carefully, in a voice that could have etched duresteel, so very different from his usual jovial tone, "is a friend of mine.  He has helped me out on a number of occasions.  He also was once a young boy who watched a Jedi kill his father, watched his 'brothers' as you say follow Jedi orders, and was, in the end, incarcerated by the Jedi when he was far younger than you were when we first met, Ezra," Hondo paused, some of the steel bleeding out of his voice, sounding old and defeated, "I thought the Jedi would _help_ him, and I never forgave myself for that," he fixed his eyes on Ezra, “not all who encountered the Jedi got the help they needed, Ezra, and that is why the Jedi fell.”


	28. Drifting Away, Finding An Anchor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boba Fett begins to return to his senses, and finds the Galaxy isn't as bad as he left it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not certain how to warning for this one. Disassociation, I think. But if it needs more let me know.
> 
> This does re-tread a bit of "Lokum." 
> 
> Requested by [ Alyyks](http://archiveofourown.org/users/alexiel_neesan/pseuds/alyyks). I hopes it's what you wanted.

"Sometimes, son, you have to let your body lead your actions.  Like going on auto-pilot until the time is right.  Sometimes it's the only way to survive."

He remembered that conversation.  His father had been telling him how he had survived being a slave on a spice freighter

He could hear his father's voice in his mind as he regained consciousness, regained awareness.  He was in a bacta tank.  That would explain why his body didn't feel like it was burning any more.  He opened his eyes and tried to see through the thick fluid. 

Someone was looking at him.

Oh.

Right.

Skywalker.

Boba Fett decided he would follow his father's advice and let his mind drift off.

*~*

He drifted.

He drifted.

He drifted as reality spun around him and tangled around him.

And he moved with it in its slow regular dance. 

Move now.  Eat now.  Wash now.  Sleep now.  Wait.  Watch as others spun in their own peculiar dances around him.

And listen to a voice that was ever kind, ever soothing.  (Skywalker?  Why?)  But Skywalker talks and doesn’t expect answers.  And he touches more than he’s aware of.  A shoulder.  A hand.  But never more, never crosses lines.

And he drifted.

*~*

Someone was talking.  Someone familiar was talking.  Someone familiar was talking both insistently and earnestly.

It wasn't the soothing chatter (Skywalker) that seemed to float around him as the days waxed and waned.

No.

This was someone who was causing, causing a painful tightness to bubble through his chest, as contradictory as that was.

Lando, he finally identified, with all the bitterness and longing that went with him.  (The anger was gone, stolen by Tatooine's merciless suns.)

He almost dismissed him.  Almost went back to his haze.  But there was something on the table between them that hadn't been there that morning. A box.  A box with a flamboyant script on it.  Proclaiming it the finest to be found anywhere.  He knew that much to be true.

Well.

That was...

He forced himself to listen to what the man was saying.

"egret hurting you.  It was one of the biggest mistakes of my life."

Ah, so it was a bribe. 

He didn't take bribes.

He considered the contents of the box.

He might make an exception.

The talking ceased.

They sat there in silence.

He knew he could outlast Lando and Lando would leave.  Lando was good at leaving.  (But hadn’t he been the one who left?  (Fled, you fled.))

Someone came in, and Lando stood, and the other voice came back.

“Lando?  What are you doing?”

And of course, Lando answered.  And the soothing voice (Skywalker, it’s always Skywalker) answered

Interesting.  The other voice liked lokum too.  The body language gave that much away.

They both turned to the door.

A small part of him was struggling with what he had been taught as a child.  When someone gave you a present you thanked them.  (It’s a bribe though.)

His hands darted out to grab the box and its lid.  The lid went sailing through the air.  He felt a faint, faint, how long had it been since he had felt anything like it, satisfaction that it hit its mark dead-on.

And.

And.

And Skywalker picked up the lid and walked it back over to him.  Setting it on the table.  Unconsciously touching his shoulder before he left the room.

And he found he didn’t want to sink back into the haze.  He broke the inner seal of the box.  He took a piece and put in it his mouth.

Floral, and sweet, and soft, and good.  And everything that he only ever had so very little of in his life.

But it didn’t stop the drifting from creeping back in.

But it reminded him of Skywalker, and his ever-present kindness.  (It was backed up by steel, he knew that.)

So with effort he took one piece and set it on the table across from him, where Skywalker would sit.  And then another, and another and another.  Then he took another piece and ate it.  His mind was beginning to clear.  He wasn’t drifting, he was waiting.

*~*

Skywalker came back dressed in something that looked like it actually was his idea and not what the Galaxy thought Jedi should look like.  He stopped when he saw the lokum set out for him.

And he took a piece.  Good.  That was good.  And then he set about making whatever he was going to eat.

“You know, on Tatooine, after a certain age, sharing food other than just the staples was seen

as flirting on most the settlements,” He knew that though, curious, and Skywalker continued, “I don’t know what it was like in the cities though,” it was much the same he wanted to say, but he couldn’t quite get it out, “anyway that lokum, well, a lot of people would consider sharing that tantamount to proposing.”

Skywalker was laughing, but it wasn’t mocking.

He considered it, and he considered his response, and he opened his mouth.

“I spent a lot of time on Tatooine, how do you know I’m not?”

He was given the most satisfying knowledge that he had surprised the Jedi.

“Proposing with candy someone else gave you is not a serious proposal,” came the reply.

 “You don’t want it, I can take it back,” the speed of his response surprised himself.

 “I’m not that picky; I’ll keep it.”

 Good.  Good.  He put another out to replace the one Skywalker had eaten.

 “I know you’ve probably eaten already, but would you like something? I sometimes feel a little guilty sitting here eating, while you have nothing in front of you.”

 Skywalker was pointing something at him.

 He lifted his eyes from the floor.  (Had he been staring at the floor all this time?) Skywalker was pointing a fork at him.  He still couldn’t quite meet Skywalker’s eyes.  A memory of a boisterous voice shouldered its way up in his memory.

 “Pointing eating utensils at people is considered rude; it implies you’re planning on stealing their food, or possibly you’re planning on eating them, and then it’s considered ruder not to follow through...I never quite got that part.”

 Not entirely true, but he did know it took him much longer than it took other people.  It strangely pleased him that it took Skywalker a bit to work it out too.  Skywalker had to cover his face. He finally could move his eyes over to look at Skywalker straight on.  Skywalker looked up from his hands and caught his eye. And blushed.

 Well.

 Skywalker sat up and then leaned back.

 He was being scrutinized as if Skywalker had never really seen him before.  Odd.  Skywalker had seen him at his absolute lowest.

 Something entered those kind blue eyes, and made him grateful that it was harder to spot when he blushed.  Skywalker smiled.

 And he (like an idiot, part of him despaired) smiled too.

 “Uhm,” Skywalker flustered.

 “Eat your stew, Skywalker, it’s going cold.”

 *~*

 He couldn’t pull up the energy the next day to vocally reply to Skywalker, but he could keep eye-contact and Skywalker didn’t push.  And he didn’t push himself.  It had been a long time since he had had that luxury.

And the safety.  (Safety’s a lie, it’s always a lie, but as long as you understood that…)

He was going to have to do something about the food.  It was one thing to eat prepackaged randomly selected rations because you had to.  It was another when you didn’t. 

Skywalker had apparently never learned to cook.

Not surprising.

When he could he would say something.

Or not.

*~*

The next day, or possibly the one after that, or the one after that one.  Skywalker returned.  Bemused. With his arms filled with containers of food.  Food that was not prepackaged or processed.

Right.  Good.

“I met the delivery person outside the door.  Did you order this?  Or do I need to call security?”

“Ordered it.”

And he stood, rolled his shoulders and took the groceries from Skywalker.  Who followed him into the small kitchen.

“You eat crap.”

Skywalker sputtered, and then laughed.

“You sound like my sister,” Skywalker smiled, his mind on his sibling clearly, “I don’t want to bother anyone more than I have to.”

“Hhrm.”

Someone at least had stocked the kitchen with proper cooking utensils.

Skywalker had many questions.

“What are you making?”

A simple Concord Dawn dish, but he couldn’t muster up the name.

“I think that should be in milligrams.”

Really?

“Is that what those come from?”

Yes, wu’tabga noodles surprisingly start out as wu’tabga roots.

“I really think that’s supposed to be measured in milligrams.”

Who’s the one who knows how to cook here?

“Where did you learn to cook?”

He looked at Skywalker.

“My Fa..” no, Jango deserved better acknowledgement than that, “My Dad taught me.”

“Oh.”

Dinner went…well.  Except for Skywalker’s initial coughing fit.

*~*

Later, a week, a month, maybe more, maybe less, Lando came back. 

And brought Solo and Chewbacca with him.

Leia Organa followed, with Wedge Antilles.

They had all come before, but that felt so very distant now.

They all were quietly arguing with Skywalker, except Antilles, who was standing back and considering.

Apparently, Skywalker had mentioned he was doing better.

Organa wanted him to be put in prison.  Lando was offering to take him in.  Chewbacca and Solo wanted to find another sarlacc and drop him in again.

He didn’t feel like listening.  So he rose, and had three people draw blasters on him.  He ignored them and went to his room.  He bumped shoulders with Skywalker on the way, gently, and Skywalker bumped back.  Antilles made a soft sound of someone who had just figured something important out. 

He shut the door behind him.

*~*

Skywalker opened the door later.

But he didn’t come in.  He respected the boundary.

So he held out a hand, and waved the imaginary wall away.

Skywalker sat down next him on the edge of the bed.

“Well?”

“Leia, Han and Chewie are worried.  Lando’s worried too, but for different reasons I think,” Skywalker said, “and Wedge refused to comment, but claimed he’d seen it before.”

“Ah.”

“Do you want to stay?” Skywalker sounded hopeful.

“Yes,” Boba Fett said with unexpected relief in his voice, “yes, I do.”


	29. From Nowhere, to Nowhere

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no clue where this bitter little fic-bit came from or if it would ever fit into anything else I've written or will write, but I haven't been able to write for so long this is actually made me feel less hopeless about not writing.
> 
> Obviously takes place sometime after the original trilogy.

"Do you think Alderaan and the Old Republic's hands were free from blood, your Highness?' he asked softly, not looking up from his work, "how much do you know about your biological father?  Did you know he was born a slave?  Could Anakin Skywalker have been born a slave if Alderaan and the Old Republic were such wonderful bastions of freedom?"

Leia froze, anger already bubbling up in her now reaching a breaking point, she opened her mouth, only for Fett to cut her off.

"It's all well and good to talk about solving a problem, but as far I can remember Alderaan never actually did a damn thing to help the slaves on the Outer Rim, or the ones who may as well have been slaves working the factories, barges, and farms in the middle and inner core?  Or did anything except make promises of 'after the war we're too pristine and prissy to fight ourselves' to the soldiers of the GAR? Every single kriffing one of us is guilty of something.  Trying to say your hands are cleaner than mine, well, at least I’m been aware of where the blood on mine came from.  Can you truly say the same?”


	30. Finn's Shinies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Resistance find some frozen Clone Troopers. Finn claims them.

It’s not even a whole ship.  It’s a very small section of a ship that survived explosion that destroyed the rest of the ship.  But scans did indicate that it did have useful materials on board, so with great caution it was pulled into the Resistance new battlecruiser’s landing bay. 

It did have useful material on board; it also had eight clone-troopers frozen in carbonite.

*~*

To say Finn was curious about the clone-troopers in carbonite was like saying water was wet, fire was hot and the General was cranky if she didn’t get her morning cup of cafe.  He had learned a little about them prior to joining the Resistance, mostly that they had been the precursors to the Stormtrooper corps, and after, well, he learned enough to know they would not have been happy with the New Order’s Corps.  Poe had even known a few when he was little.  So had the General, and she advised caution.

Which was why the Resistance was being so careful in their deliberations on what to do.  Unfreeze them?  Leave them be?  Destroy them?  In the end, BB-8 accidently solved the issue. 

The little astro-mech droid had swerved to avoid a large load-mover on BB-8’s way to where Finn and Poe were examining the carbonite blocks, and bumped into one of the frozen blocks.  Maybe it was BB-8’s apologetic beep in binary triggered something, maybe the bump jostled a loose part in the control mechanism, but the carbonite started to melt.

Finn was the first one at the side of the trooper who stumbled out.  Finn almost instinctively unlatched the helmet when he felt panic thrumming from armored form.  Finn held him as he coughed and shook.

The young man gave a final shake, broke free from Finn, and looked at him in surprise before snapping to attention.

“Sorry, sir, wasn’t expecting that, sir.  CT 11011 reporting, sir,” the clone said nervously, then hesitantly, hopefully added, “are… are you our General, sir?”

Finn started to answer but the other blocks of carbonite were beginning to melt, and the other troopers were as stumbling and confused as the first.   Later they would learn there was a trigger to unfreeze the others if one was unfrozen.  Poe and other Resistance members rushed to help, but somehow, somehow the troopers all, blinking and gawking, seemed to end up clustered around Finn. 

“Do you have names?” he asked, ready to name them on the spot.

“Sir?” CT 11011 asked, glancing back at his fellow clones.  He seemed to be the leader.

“Something other than your identification numbers?  I will give you names if you want,” Finn answered earnestly, “You are more than numbers.”

The troopers clustered tighter together, a communication shared with a look.

“I..I’m Dub Ones, or just Dubs, sir,” he pulled himself up even straighter than before, something Finn and Poe wouldn’t have thought possible, “These are Dee-dee, Prak, Moaner, Tooka, Gillee, Hi-Lite, and Spit-Take, sir.”

“Spit-Take?”

Spit-Take smiled, and seven hands clapped over his mouth.

“All right, all right,” Finn grinned, “I think I can guess.”

“Yes Sir!” They all, except Spit-Take, answered.

“Okay, let’s get you to the med bay for check-ups,” Poe interjected.

The troopers didn’t seem thrilled with that.

“We’ll get some food in the mess afterwards,” Finn assured them.

That did help get them all down to the medical bay with a minimum of confusion.

“No, you don’t need to put your helmets back on, in fact please don’t put them back on,” Finn said, as he and Poe and BB-8 lead the eight young men through the corridor, with only one incident of one of the troopers starting off when he saw something interesting.  Finn turned around in time to hear:

“…not now Deedee…”

And the trooper with closely-cropped single stripe of hair on his head, Prak, pulled another clone back into line behind him and gave Finn a nervous smile.  He shifted so Finn’s view of the other clone was almost completely blocked.

Finn just gave him a friendly grin and a nod.

Once they reached the med bay, and the Clone Troopers were settle, Poe pulled Finn aside, flashing a reassuring smile at the clones.

“These are what I remember Uncle Rex referring to as ‘shinies’” he said quietly, “I don’t think they seen much combat.”

Finn looked at the clones.  They were all very stoic as the med-droids administered updated vaccines, and used a very precise needle-like instrument to destroy the bio-chips in their heads.  But he saw the one who called himself Tooka smile and bump shoulders with Gillee and Moaner; he quietly said something and Finn could see nervousness lifting from them. 

 “They’re just kids, aren’t they?” Finn asked.

Poe considered that.

“I don’t think they see themselves that way, and I’m not certain they would appreciate being viewed as kids,” he admitted, “Now that they’re unfrozen, we’re synthesizing the anti-virus to slow their aging down to normal.  General Organa’s going to want to meet them.”

Finn nodded.

“But I am going to be there,” he looked at the clones again, “They’re _my_ responsibility.”


	31. And Taking TLJ In To Account, The First Chapter, Redone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An alternate version of Chapter One taking The Last Jedi into Account.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, since I seem to be able to write now, I'm going to write as much as I can as it comes to me, hoping that more Philosophical Discussions comes out, and more of my other series comes out as well.

As it turned out there was someone else on the planet aside from herself, Chewbacca, R2D2, and Luke Skywalker; the scarred old man stepped in front of her as she unfroze from the shock of Skywalker’s casual dismissal.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, his tone and dark eyes strangely friendly despite the blaster he was holding on her.

“I, I was sent by the Resistance, by General Leia Organa, to bring back Luke Skywalker,” Rey sputtered, her eyes searching for where Skywalker had thrown the lightsaber, “I, what just happened?”

The man’s eyes narrowed, then relaxed.

“Master Grumpy-Pants doesn’t want to go back,” he laughed, lowering his blaster.  He offered her a wry smile, “are you hungry?  I was coming to call Skywalker for lunch, but he’s probably going to go find some other rocks to brood on now.”

“Uh, sure, just, just a moment,” she went over to retrieve the lightsaber being examined by small, feathered creatures.  She was unnerved when she turned and he was right there, again.

“Anakin Skywalker’s lightsaber,” he took it from Rey’s hands as she made small noise of protest, and tilted it this way and that, “I haven’t seen this thing in years.”

Then he ignited the blade, and actually twirled it expertly, before extinguishing it.

“Are you a Jedi?” Rey asked.  At least she might be able bring someone back with her.  Maybe not the legendary Skywalker, but she suspected any surviving Jedi might bring at least a little more hope to the Resistance.

The man laughed in her face, his scars twisting in unsettling ways.

“Me?  A Jedi?” he handed her back the ‘saber, and nodded his head to side as he moved off in that direction, “Come on, the food’ll get cold.”

“Okay,” Rey followed him, hoping she could get more information out of him.

“He was more of a Jedi-killer, and stop encouraging her!” another voice sounded besides her, startling her once again.  This time it was Skywalker, “What?  I’m not going to miss lunch. What have you made this time, Lucky?” he called after the other man.

Rey hurried behind them.

“Fish and kelp soup, and before you turn your nose up, Skywalker,” Lucky warned, “I did tell you we needed more tubers harvested, but someone kriffed off to sulk on the cliff again.”

“I was not sulking,” Luke muttered.

*

After following Luke Skywalker around for a day or two, Rey was discouraged.  Skywalker was a disappointment, she was having unwanted contact with Kylo Ren, and she felt as though she was failing the Resistance, Leia and most importantly failing Finn somehow.

The only bright spot so far was being fussed over by Lucky.  The old man had tutted over her clothes the first night and wrapped several woolen knitted garments around her.  And, despite Skywalker’s objection, kept feeding her.

His rationale was:

“I was here first, I’m the one cooking, the nuns _like_ me, and I’ll kick your ass out of our bed if you try to stop me.”

That had been a bit of a surprise.  Rey had heard somewhere that Jedi weren’t supposed to be involved with people, not like that (to be truthful that worried her a little bit.)   So she asked about it, but Lucky only smiled at her, and Skywalker shrugged and asked why he shouldn’t?  It hadn’t helped any other Jedi not be to ‘involved.’

Then Chewbacca had come to check on her and the poodoo had hit the fan.

“Put Him Down!” Skywalker thundered at the Wookie, as Lucky dangled a foot off the ground, looking, well, looking weirdly serene for someone who was struggling to stop the life from being strangled out of him.  When Chewbacca didn’t comply, Luke stretched out a hand and…

Sheets of lightning crashed down around them.

Chewbacca abruptly dropped Lucky.

Lucky sat on the ground, breathing hard.

Rey rushed to Chewbacca.  The Wookie picked her up like a parent picks up small child after they both had had scare; perhaps it wasn’t too far off.

And Luke looked horrified, and continued to look horrified as he turned around in a circle as if he was seeing Ahch-To for the first time.

Lucky managed to get to his feet, and limped over to Luke.  He placed a hand on Luke’s shoulder and shook him gently.

“Love? Love? Come on, Skywalker,” he murmured, “You’re scaring me.”

That got through to him, and Luke pulled Lucky into an embrace.  He wrapped himself around Lucky like he was trying protect him from everything, even himself.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Luke kept saying.

“I forgive you, but it’s not me you should apologize to,” Lucky said, muffled against Luke’s shoulder, as he rubbed circles in Luke’s back, “You’ve scared the mighty Chewbacca; if I remember correctly that’s not an easy thing to do.”

“No, no, you don’t understand…”

Lucky pulled back as much as Skywalker would allow him.

“First in forever you connect with the Force, it’s in anger and you call down lightning,” Lucky cupped the side of his face, “you did it to save me, and you didn’t hit anyone.  You won’t do it again, not by accident, not deliberately.  I can’t see how that’s something to be sorry for.  The only thing I can think of you being sorry for now is not teaching that young woman, so she doesn’t do it either.”

Luke gazed at Lucky’s earnest face for a moment, then looked over at Chewbacca and Rey.  He let out a sad tired laugh.

“When did you become an advocate for the Jedi, Lucky?”

Lucky leaned forward to touch their foreheads.

“When I found one that was worth the pain.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lucky is an alias Boba used briefly in the Clone Wars. It seemed appropriate he would fall back to using it.


	32. The Force Works In Mysterious Ways (And Commander Cody Would Like A Word About That...)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Order 66 has been issued, but the Force has heeded Mace Windu's dying wish, now Commander Cody has a small problem on his hands, well, a large number of small problems on his hands. 
> 
> Or Cody goes from the being the highest ranked Clone Trooper in the GAR to THE Papa Bear in less than a second flat.

Mace Windu was going to die.  He knew that.  Accepted it, if grudgingly, but in his last moment he felt compelled to plead with the Force to save and protect his fellow Jedi.

Mace would never know, but the Force had been listening.

But, of course, the Ways of the Force were mysterious, capricious, and not without a slightly warped sense of humor.

*~*

Cody stared down at the tiny boy that was swimming in General Ken...THE TRAITOR'S (the grating artificial voice in his head screamed) robes.  The large frightened blue-green eyes framed by tousled copper hair, as tiny hands clutched the fabric around him. 

Cody thought for a moment, then took off his helmet and knelt down.

"Hello there," he asked as gently as he could, "I'm Cody, who are you?"

"O..Obian Ken'bi," the child replied softly, his eyes darting at the other soldiers.

For a brief moment the voice in Cody's head roared, and Cody winced, but dammit this wasn't General Ken...THE TRAITOR, this was a little boy (kriff! just how young was he?) who was clearly scared.  And deliberately harming younglings was a War Crime as far as Cody knew or cared.

Cody turned to the men gathered around them.

"Take your buckets off," he ordered in a low voice, meant only for the men not involved in the clean up of Utapau.  And he watched as the little boy's eye grew impossibly rounder as he saw that they all more or less looked alike, "these are my brothers," he answered to the unasked question.

The boy nodded, looking a little less fearful.

"We're going to have to find something that fits you better than...than those," Cody nodded to the Jedi TRAITOR robes.  Cody was _really_ getting tired of that voice, "in the meantime..."

He scooped little Obi-wan up in his arms, muddle of robes and all.

"Is this okay?' he asked.

"Yes, thank you," came the tiny, serious reply, and a sigh as he rested his head against Cody's chest.

Cody felt a swell of protectiveness over take him.  Whoever this little boy had been (TRAITOR!) he was Cody's responsibility now, and Cody felt an icy calm surety that if anyone tried to harm this youngling now Cody would tear them to little chunks.  And that awful voice in Cody's head could go frell itself.

"Commander! Sir!  We have incoming transmissions you need to take,” Boil called out.

*~*

It was the same story over and over, just as the Clone Troopers had received Order 66 they would turn and find the Jedi TRAITORS were gone, and very small younglings were left in their place.

Across the holo-table, Gree was holding a _tiny_ green sprite in the palm of one hand and Cody could _feel_ the mischief rolling off the little thing through the transmission.  Bly had a little Twi'lek girl wrapped up in the jacket part of his non-armor uniform.  One of the Wolf Pack was holding an emergency mask over a small Kel Dor's face while Wolffe lived up to his name and snarled and snapped at anyone not a part of the Pack who tried to get close.  And there were so many others all looking like Cody felt about his own unexpected youngling.

They all wanted Cody to tell them what to do, since...since it just didn't feel right to contact anyone else, and Cody was the highest-ranking clone member of the GAR.

So, he told the Clones on Coruscant who were now all holed up in the Jedi Temple with the mix of true younglings and suddenly appeared younglings to stay put, he would be coming soon.  He told the rest to grab their younglings and head to Kamino and if anyone gave them any trouble they had his full permission to blast them to stardust…especially the long-necks.

*~*

“I’m sorry, sir, I’m not certain I heard that correctly, sir?” Cody was glad he had kept his helmet on when he was greeted by the new…Emperor.

He had never liked Palpatine and now the man was telling him that he and his brothers had to either execute or turn over the younglings, **_their_** younglings.  He was glad he had run into Senator Organa before he had reported to the new Emperor’s office.  Senator Organa was currently overseeing the secret evacuation of the Temple.

It wasn’t Palpatine that answered, but General Skywalker by his side.

“Cody, I know this is hard to understand, but the Jedi have turned against the Republic.  Whatever is going on now is a trick.  You must…”

Cody wasn’t going to listen to any more.  He was exceptionally glad he had his helmet on, as he could give the order to open fire without either men hearing.  Yes, Skywalker had managed to block a few shots, but he couldn’t block all of them and fell.  Cody felt bad about General Skywalker’s death and would mourn the General he had known.  But he would treasure the look on Palpatine’s face just before a shot from Cody’s own blaster obliterated it.  The sheer look of shock as if the man’s own furniture had suddenly decided to take a shot at him.  Knowing the Chancellor and short-lived Emperor’s attitude towards the GAR, it’s possible that’s exactly what he felt had happened.

“Commander Cody?” Organa’s voice was at his ear, “the last ship will be leaving soon.”

“Thank you, Senator, we’ll be on it,” Cody acknowledged.

*~*

A few systems (Alderaan, Naboo, Chandrila, and surprisingly Mandalore) supported the newly founded Clone Collective, and were willing to work with the now completely free-willed clones -- when Rex had told Cody about the chips there had been a reckoning on Kamino.   

It had ended peacefully.  Mostly thanks to Senator Amidala unwittingly choosing the tensest moment to go into labor. Free-born children on Kamino that were not Kaminoan.  There was some ancient prophecy involved that Cody didn’t understand or really give a kriff about, but it almost immediately changed how the Kaminoans considered the Clones, and Cody would be thankful for that.

Nonetheless apparently a great many in the Senate had shared Palpatine’s view that the Clone Troopers were basically furniture, and weren’t very happy when they received the transmission from Kamino that the GAR was permanently standing down, they were keeping the force-sensitive younglings and raising them with their own little ones, and if the Republic/Empire/Whatever the Kriff They Were Calling Themselves Now really wanted to make it into a fight, well, Commander Cody and his Brothers would be waiting for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not certain what Padme's reaction to Anakin's death was, but I think even in mourning she was glad he was taken down before the man she loved completely was destroyed by Palpatine.


	33. A Brief History Lesson.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boba give Leia a brief sketch of history, and it seldom lives up to the hype.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should note I am very much making up Mandalorian History.
> 
> I should also note I fully intend to write out how Boba ended up as Mand'alor.
> 
> I shall note again that this is the timeline where Luke and Boba are married and ultimately end up with three children and a number of pathetic life-forms that they really wish their daughter Shmi would stop adopting. (Somewhere in the Force Qui Gon Jinn is laughing his backside off)

Leia was furious, more than furious, she was frightened and furious.  There were actually people who were seriously thinking of returning some of the Emperor’s policies...for only a short time, they were saying.

“Will you shut up?  You’re scaring Shmi,” a voice growled out behind her.

Leia knew that voice, she hated that voice and that voice had just dared to tell her to shut up.  She turned around ready to give Fett, brother-in-law or no, a piece of her mind and stopped in her tracks.

She knew because of Luke’s responsibilities and obligations that Fett, Mand’alor or not, was doing most of the care for their daughter.  But for whatever reason she never pictured Fett, gently rocking on his feet, with a spit-up towel over one shoulder, feeding Shmi.  Or trying to feed her, since Shmi was upset and whimpering. 

“It might come as a surprise for you, but some people’s lives did actually improve during the Empire,” he said, his voice slipping in a dissonantly soothing tone, his eyes returning to his daughter, “and all they see now is those improvements being torn away from them.”

“Those improvements came at the cost of other people,” Leia found herself slipping into the same soothing tone, and Shmi began to quiet, “you can’t say that doesn’t matter or we should return to...”

“Not saying that,” Fett growled slightly, but made a funny face at Shmi as he did, “but if you lot don’t recognize that fact and try and find a new path for everyone you’re going down the same road as the old Republic real fast,” there, Shmi was willing to take her bottle again, “and now I have a vested interest in that not happening.”

“As the Mand’alor,” Leia said drily.

Fett wrinkled his nose. 

“We both know that was an accident,” he groused quietly, sitting down, “I intended to follow my Father’s advice and not get trapped in politics,” he thought for a moment, then grinned, “although Dad would bust a gut laughing at the thought of all those House and Clan Proud idiots having made a Concordian the Mand’alor of Mand’alors out of convenience and then having to really accept it.”

Leia sat down beside him and gave him her best ‘you better explain what that means’ look; she had been there when the then presumed Dead Boba Fett was named Mand’alor, but had been on ordered and enforced bedrest due to complications with her pregnancy with Ben at the time; to her irritation she had only been allowed the barest of briefing to reduce her stress.  She hadn’t had much time afterwards to delve into the situation, trusting Luke to keep it from exploding.  

Leia didn’t need something blindsiding her the way that Luke casually mentioning he had married Fett Tatooine style had done. Well, it hadn’t been so casual and the signs had all been there, she just hadn’t wanted to see them, and dammit even Luke agreed she was allowed that. 

“How much history do you know about the Mandalorian systems?” Fett asked.

“It frequently contradicts itself,” Leia replied, “I was too busy with other matters to disentangle it.”

“Right, good,” Fett nodded, “this is an extremely simplified version - the core world, Mandalore, went out conquering neighboring planets.  If the planet’s inhabitants had a warrior culture or subculture, and they impressed the Mando’ade and were willing to submit fealty, they got swallowed in and were for all intents and purposes considered full Mando’ade.  Then they came to the planet that they named Concord Dawn.  Its native inhabitants were farmers.  No warrior culture, no aggressive competition, except maybe in who could grow the best wu’tabgas,” he chuckled, “They pretty much accepted the Mando’ade invaders as their rulers because, really, humoring the idiots in armor let them get on with the really important things like making sure to plant the crops on time,” he paused and adjusted his hold on the bottle and Shmi, “so they were never really considered proper citizens of Mandalore.  And since we were descended from a native family of Concord Dawn, Dad and I were never considered ‘properly’ Mandalorian.”

“But aren’t…” Leia carefully thought about what she said next, “you are descended from Cassus Fett.  He was Mandalor the Ultimate’s chief strategist. Wouldn’t that have made an exception?”

“Cassus Fett’s chief goal was to keep Mandalor the Ultimate and his Warriors from trampling his wife’s vegetable garden,” Boba snorted, “that he was good at turning his farming strategies into battle strategies and bluffing Jedi and Mandalorian alike were a far second.  I have the journals to prove that much to many people’s embarrassment.  There, that’s a good girl,” he cooed at Shmi as she finished her bottle, then gently burped her.


	34. Training/Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A discussion between Master Skywalker and Lando Calrissian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is will be worked into _What Happens On Florrum... Will Probably Have Wide Reaching Galaxy Implications... Force Help Us All_ (yes I haven't abandoned it or Philosophical Discussions) but it will probably be edited to fit. But I like this bit enough for it to stand on its own. Obviously ignores **The Last Jedi.**

“Those…those could be considered relics,” Lando said, his eyes following every movement of the blades, “you’re letting him train his sons with those?  Luke, are you out of your mind?!?  That’s _Boba Fett_.  Sure he’s playing nice now, but he’s notorious for his hatred of the Jedi.”

Luke was silent and Lando finally thought he wasn’t going to get an answer.

“There are just barely two Jedi now, Lando.  The Jedi of the Old Republic, they had one another.  It took an army to bring them down.”

“That’s my point, do you really know who, what Boba Fett is?” Lando felt like he needed a hammer to beat how dangerous the circumstances were into that stubborn Skywalker brain.

“Yes,” Luke finally looked at Lando with dark amusement dancing in his sad blue eyes, “I know what and who he is.  As I said, the Jedi of the Old Republic had one another… to keep from falling to the Dark Side.  Now there is only Rey and I.  If we fell, _if_ we joined my nephew,” Luke looked back at the Fetts and Finn practicing, “I take great comfort in knowing Boba Fett is training his sons.”


	35. Better Late...(1/4)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being in the right place at the right time? CC 2224 could live with that. Would live with that. (Part of a small trilogy)
> 
> Whoops! looks like this will have four parts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's warnings: some suicidal thoughts and actions.

CC 2224 tried to stick to patrolling corridors that were out of the way and unfrequented by others.  He _had_ the seniority to choose that.  He also has no desire to see the numbskulls he's been forced to train, bumbling and bragging, as if they had any right to claim they were superior to him and his brothers.  It was bad enough that every time he had gotten himself somewhere remote and was about to try and find a way to contact the Rebellion, General Skywalker (CC 2224 would never think of him as Vader, that gave the fallen jedi a coward's way out) pulled him to whatever nightmare the Empire had cooked up.  Because, like as not, General Skywalker was an ass who wanted a living security blanket nearby no matter how high and mighty he claimed he was, never mind that CC 2224, once his mind had cleared, once it had become his own again and he had the thrice-damned chip taken out, once he was _Cody_ again, would have gladly chucked them both back into the lava if he were able to. 

Of course, Skywalker was also punishing him for not killing General Kenobi.  CC 2224 was a good asset to the Empire.  Good assets shouldn’t be allowed to wither away too soon.  So Skywalker had had CC 2224’s aging slowed to what passed for normal human standard.  He had had to watch his brothers, the shinies, the cadets grow old before their time, and all the while they looked at him with hurt eyes not quite understanding why he was being spared.  And he had to teach the arrogant dismissive natural borns to be soldiers.  CC 2224 had thought that was worst hell he could ever know.

But the Death Star took the proverbial biscuit.

CC 2224 had watched in horror over Scarif as the battle station boiled way part of the planet.  He had to discreetly flee the bridge when Alderaan shattered; he’d learned very young vomiting in one’s helmet was never a good thing.

Now he found himself in one of the darker alcove of the corridor, and let himself lean with his forehead against the wall.  This was intolerable.  This was impossible.  Cody had kept himself going because he had foolishly deluded himself that somehow, some way, he could help the first small pockets of resistance to the Empire and later that he could escape to the Rebellion.  The Death Star killed that delusion.

He had come up with one fragile terminal option: he wondered if he could carry enough explosives in a suicidal dive into the power core.  And if it would make any difference in the end anyway.

He almost didn’t hear the careful, stealthy footsteps.  Cody derisively doubted any of the natural-borns would have even noticed them.  Still, whether he liked it or not, Cody was a soldier, a good soldier, and good soldiers followed orders even if they’d rather eat their blasters.  Besides he didn’t need anyone else finding his little space of quiet.  He took a deep breath and stepped into the main body of the corridor his blaster raised.  His legs almost gave out from under him.

It had been years, but Cody still knew a Jedi when he saw one.

And this one ignited their lightsaber immediately.

A sense of relief washed over Cody, and he allowed himself to sink to his knees.  Unlatched and removed his helmet with one hand. He closed his eyes and held his head up high to offer his neck.

“Please, sir, please.”

There was a hesitation, an intake of breath, and he heard the ‘saber turned off. 

Cody had felt despair before, but this hit him like a ton of duracrete.

Then there were two hands on his arms and he was being pulled to his feet.

“No more of that, Commander,” an aged but familiar voice gently chuckled, “we have to get off this battle station.”

Cody’s eyes open from the shock he felt, and he looked into the Jedi’s face.  General Kenobi had grown older, rather more harshly than he should have, but it was _his_ General.  Cody dropped his helmet.

A broken “Sir” was all Cody could manage, before he was trailing after General Kenobi.  After that it was a bit of a blur interspersed with a few razor sharp images the next few hours. 

The strongest of which was that General Skywalker apparently forgot that armor, no matter how good, really didn’t do much good if someone shoved a blaster point blank into it and kept firing until the energy magazine was empty.  Cody’s told later that he was screaming obscenities the entire time. 

Cody remembers ordering the smuggler to not go directly to the Rebel base, but gave him coordinates to several systems where they could check for and dump any tracking devices before they finally head for the Rebel base, and apparently because humoring the very excitable defecting stormtrooper is a time-honored tradition his orders were followed. 

But Cody’s favorite memory was finally sitting/falling asleep beside his General.  He could answer questions later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regarding Cody killing Vader (yes, Vader is quite dead) - Vader didn't see it coming the same way a person would never dream their pet rock would suddenly rise up and turn on them. After all it's just a rock, heh. Also, I might be a Cody-Wan fan?


	36. Better Late...(2/4)

Kenobi felt Cody slip into sleep and smiled gently. 

Truth be told he had not expected to leave the Death star alive.  Once he had felt his former apprentice’s presence, he had been certain that their final confrontation was at hand, and the best Obi-Wan could do was ensure Luke escaped with Leia (because that seemed a given, that somehow some way Luke would find his sister.)  

When he had entered that deserted corridor, he thought he hadn’t sensed any one there.  Looking back, it should have been obvious he had discounted a presence that his mind always told him would be there, even after these many years.  It was just fortunate that Cody’s mind was his own again.

It had been startling when the Storm Trooper had removed his helmet.  For a split-second Obi-Wan had almost believed that it was Jango Fett revived in that dark space.  But the plea, the offering of his neck, and wash of relief said otherwise, as had the despair when Obi-Wan had extinguished his light saber. 

Obi-Wan would never forget Cody’s face when he had finally realized who was helping him up off the floor.  It had gone from devastated despair to blank surprise to… well the closest Obi-Wan could come up with was worship and adoration, and Obi-Wan was not comfortable with that at all.  When they had started moving again they had fallen into a rhythm Obi-Wan had thought lost forever.

And then they got to the hangar.

He had, at best, hoped that Cody would follow a final order.

“Run”

And protect Luke and Leia.

Instead Cody had erupted. 

Obi-Wan had known the Clone Troopers had learned many, many phrases from the many worlds they had fought on, and undoubtedly Cody had learned many since then.  Cody used some curses that even Obi-Wan was unfamiliar with as he had vented twenty years of pain and regret as he killed Vader.

After that it seemed everything had frozen in shock as he had hauled Cody across the hangar deck to the Millennium Falcon still pressing the trigger of his depleted blaster.  Once they were space-borne Cody had started issuing orders and generally taken command.  And now, satisfied that reality was arranged to Obi-Wan’s convenience, he finally wound down and deigned to relax.

“Uhm?” Luke’s eyes were large as saucers.  Leia’s were…almost as large, but there was a sharpness to her gaze that Luke’s didn’t hold.

“This is Commander Cody,” Obi-Wan said quietly, shifting so Cody rested against him more comfortably, grateful that Cody had stripped down to his blacks, “he served with me in the Clone Wars.”

“Oh!  Did he know my Father too, Ben?” Luke took the cue to be quiet, well, quieter than normal.

“Yes, he did,” Obi-Wan answered truthfully, and he could see the curiosity growing in Luke’s eyes

Oh dear, Obi-Wan thought.  This could be an awkward situation, as Obi-Wan hadn’t _properly_ introduce any of them to Cody.

However, Artoo skidded over to the rescue and tootling and beeping rapidly.

Threepio was hurrying over, fussing and fuming and sounding vaguely scandalized.

“Artoo, I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but that stormtrooper certainly does not owe you an oil bath!”

Artoo beeped insistently.

“The Battle of What?  You’re being delusional again,” Threepio moaned, “you are not a war hero!”

Artoo let out a loud prolonged outraged whistle.

“Of course that droid would survive,” Cody said groggily, lifting his head, and moved away from Kenobi, “My apologies, General.”

A panel slid back on Artoo and a pincer emerged and pinched Cody’s arm, and the droid tootled again.

“No, Wooley was the one who dumped that sticky pollen on you,” Cody replied aggrieved and a touch sad, then he looked at Luke and Leia, both brimming with questions.  Luke about his father and Leia wanted to know how he knew her father’s favorite astro-mech.  Cody looked to his general with his questions.

Well, no time like the present, Obi-Wan thought.

“Cody, these are Luke Skywalker and Princess Leia Organa of the Royal House of Alderaan,” Obi-Wan paused, “they are Senator Amidala and General Skywalker’s children.”

Cody nodded, that made sense.

Wait…

“ **WHAT?!?** ” chorused three voices.

Artoo chortled gleefully.

 

~*~

By the time they reached Yavin IV, most of the pertinent questions had been answered, Captain Solo had been persuaded to remain with the Rebellion for a little while (mostly by Chewbacca,) and Cody had found a pair of trousers to put on over his blacks.  What he really wanted was one of various cloaks his General had had a habit divesting himself dramatically of, so he could hide himself just a little bit longer.

According to the Princess, one of his Brothers was on Yavin IV. 

Rex.

Any other Brother would be difficult enough to face.

But Rex?

A slow death by flimsi cuts and salt would be preferable.

Cody contented himself to staying at his General’s heels as they exited the Millennium Falcon.

He was struck by the noise, and almost wished he was back in armor; a comfortable barrier.  Most of it was muted joy that Princess Leia was alive, followed by an almost excited relief when more and more people realized, yes, that was Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi.  As though his General’s presence alone presaged the fall of the Empire. 

His General’s new padawan was clearly overwhelmed until someone called his name, and then Luke lit up like a sun (Cody almost believed there was an actually brightening of the air around the boy) and ran over to another young man he called: “Biggs!”

“Huh,” the smuggler’s voice came from behind, “looks like everyone here but me knows someone in the Rebellion.”

Cody glanced back and realized the young man was uncomfortable as he was.  He shrugged.

“Stick around long enough and someday someone will know you.”

Then he hurried after General Kenobi.

~*~

The Leadership of the Rebellion, at those present, weren’t comfortable with Cody’s presence.  They certainly wanted him thoroughly debriefed before he was even allowed near any thing resembling a planning session.

But he just _would not_ leave Master Kenobi’s side.

And the various attempts to draw him away were met with a long, cool stare, a flexing of fingers missing their blaster and a shuffle closer to the Kenobi.

“We appreciate that,” Mon Mothma paused, almost squirming under Cody’s gaze, “you have most grievously injured Darth Vader according to Princess Leia, however…”

“Oh, Cody didn’t just wound Vader,” Kenobi interjected in a light tone Mothma knew of old, “Cody killed him.”

There was silence.

“Darth Vader is dead, we have the plans for the Death Star, and you appear to have returned from the dead, Master Kenobi,” a heavily pregnant Twi’lek stated incredulously and slightly bitterly.

Obi-Wan could feel both joy and wounding grief warring in the woman.  He felt another weight of loss on his being.  This must be Hera Syndulla.  He and Yoda had conversed and debated young Dume’s attachment to her, and they had both felt his passing into the Force.

“Yes, ma’am,” Cody answered, meeting her eyes, “and now we have to add overthrow the Empire to that list, ma’am,” he tilted his head, a thoughtful look crossing his face, “and I’m sorry for your loss, ma’am.”

Obi-Wan kept the surprise from his face, but Cody knew it was there, and quietly said, “I’ll explain later.”

Then everyone’s attention was pulled away as an excited boffin hurried in and declared.

“We found it!  We’ve found the Death Star’s weakness!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this has developed into a four part arc. 
> 
> It also appears to have helped jar loss my _Philosophical Discussions,_ lagomorph, so hopefully the next chapter of that will finally be up soon.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Of Blood And Memories](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9914519) by [alyyks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alyyks/pseuds/alyyks)




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